


Retribution

by h4nn3ul



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: But no underage sex, F/M, M/M, Nuzlocke Challenge, Self-Harm, Underage Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 115,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4nn3ul/pseuds/h4nn3ul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex has always thought her grandfather looked a little like Professor Oak. But she certainly never even dreamt that the world of Pokemon so closely overlapped her own, enough for her to cross through. Here, the Pokemon, called Pieces, can die, or they can be pulled back from death as mindless, robotic creatures. Different powers seem to be at play here, all connected to a mysterious trainer that passed by 2 years ago. It's up to Alex to decide who this person was, and if she wants to face the truth that he brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Handheld

In the dimness and jolts of the carriage, I cracked my head against the window frame and groaned. Loudly. 

"GRANDPA!" Leaning out the side window, I drew out the last syllable until my grandfather's tufted, grey hair partially came into view. 

"What is it, Alexandra?"

"It's Alex," I muttered under my breath, and then spoke up again, "Grandpa, I've been here forever!"

"It's been 7 minutes."

"It's dark in here! And I'm squished in between the luggage! And my foot's asleep! And--"

What little I could see of him retreated from my view as he resumed his ramrod-straight sitting position on the outer passenger bench of the carriage. 

"Just awhile longer, darling."

"But why a horse carriage?"

"It's London, darling."

"That makes no sense!" I huffed. This entire trip didn't make sense. Usually, my grandfather visited my sunny hometown in California and spent the summer with us. I had never asked to go to London, but my mother thought it would be a good distraction.

She had cried at the airport, begging me to stay safe, clutching my hands, my face. I understood her distress; both of us had been unhinged by the accident. 

Even after two years, I still felt the familiar stinging of tears and quickly looked outside, forcing my face to stay blank so my heart would do the same. The cobbled streets of London appeared and disappeared in the think fog. No tourists were on the streets; only the citizens, who were used to the lack of vision, would brave such weather. All the tourists would wither in this fog. I sighed again, wishing I had the DS that had been buried somewhere in the luggage. My Pokémon needed to be EV trained. 

Eventually, the city blended into the moor, abundant in wild-looking plants. The sharp sounds of the horses hooves on stone suddenly changed to a dull thudding as the road became dirt. I saw the beginnings of my grandfather's luxurious, sprawling mansion that dissipated into the fog, preventing me from seeing how huge it really was. 

"Alexandra, we're here." The carriage shifted as the driver helped my grandfather dismount.

"Grandpa, don't leave without me. I'm buried under luggage."

"Just a minute, my lady," said the driver with a thick British accent. He opened the door and helped me move the formidable bag that was on top of me. I jumped down with a sigh.

"And Grandpa, it's Alex, not Alexandra. That's what he called me..." I trailed off, swallowing, before resuming in a monotone, "So I took it up as my name now." His light blue eyes locked with mine. He had passed down those eyes to my family, sky blue with gold rings around the irises, and these were the eyes that assessed me. I looked down, breaking his gaze. 

"Sometimes," his gentle, creaky voice made me look up again, "in the heat of fever, it is better to strip yourself of old clothes and don fresh ones."

I looked down again.

"I'm not sick, Grandpa," I said quietly. 

He simply smiled and nodded, turning to the gates of the walkway leading to his front door. Two men walked out of the house and started to carry the luggage in while a man in what I assumed was traditional butler attire gestured to my backpack. 

"May I take that for you, my lady?"

"Thank you," I smiled, dimpling. 

"It is my pleasure." He walked briskly to where my grandfather was slowly making his way to the front door. “Professor Oak? The young lady’s room has been prepared.” My grandfather said something and the butler bowed again. 

After a meandering walk through the kitchen, dining room and several parlors, my grandfather and I walked across a blindingly white room that seemed to have nothing in it.

"Grandpa, what's that room for?" I asked, unlinking arms with him. Suddenly, his face twisted into grief, scaring me, but the expression was gone in a second. 

"You'll find out soon enough." 

"Grandpa, are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine. No." I rubbed his shoulder with one hand, concerned. 

"Grandpa, do you want to sit down?"

"Why don't I take you to your room and we can sit down there?" He patted my hand affectionately. At the same time, his voice dropped, making him sound a decade older, "And then we can talk."

In my room, he sat down heavily in a chair, his face in his hands. By this time, I was throughly alarmed. 

"I think I need to call the hospital, Grandpa."

"No, no," he hesitated, then plunged forward with the air of a man acting out of desperation. "Alexandra, tell me, what video game have we always played together?”

“Pokémon. Grandpa, if this is some way of reminding me to EV train my Pokémon, I already have Snorlax at--”

“Darling, Pokémon... Pokémon is not a game anymore."

I felt my nerves crackle as my eyes widened. My grandpa was a scientist; it was possible.

"So you genetically engineered them into creation and now I get my very own Pikachu?"

"Genetically engineered Pikach-- Alexandra! What did I say about Pikachu?"

I pouted, sliding my gaze away.

"The animated version of Pokémon extolled the virtues of Pikachu over a Raichu, but in actuality, the Raichu is definitely better in both stats and in move set," I recited, then mumbled, "It was a guilty pleasure." He stared at me and then laughed, covering his face with both hands. 

"I see you still have Pokémon on your mind. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing we have yet to see." He took a deep breath. "Alexandra, the world of Pokémon is real." 

Again, the ice-blue eyes on mine. 

"I'm calling the hospital."

"Nothing is wrong with me, darling. Alexandra, you have to listen to me."

"I'll listen to you while I called the hospital, okay? Is it 911 in London, too? The butler would know, right?"

"Alexandra, listen to me."

"I'll get him, and it's not Alexandra, Grandpa, just saying." 

"Alexandra!"

"My name is Alex!” I snapped, then covered my mouth. But my Grandfather didn't even flinch from the tone of my voice. He jumped up and grabbed my shoulders tightly. 

"You are not Alex! You have lived your entire life as Alexandra! You are a beautiful girl and you must not lose your identity as one. There will be a time when... when the past will try to overwhelm you. You MUST NOT forget who you are, understand?"

My grandfather's face, which had always serenely looked over me, showed the sort of anguish that I had never wanted to see again. He looked at me as he had looked at the preacher at the funeral. 

"Okay, Grandpa. I won't forget." I gripped his hand firmly and tried to soothe him. "Why don't I get you some tea? And then I'll call the doctor, no hospital trip. I'm just worried about you."

"Alexandra, the world of Pokémon exists." I stayed silent. "Here, take this." Out of his pocket, he pulled out something bright red, with a blue bulb on the corner. 

"Grandpa! That's a toy Pokédex!"

“It’s only made to look like a toy on the outside. On the inside, it’s different.” When I moved my hand to press the button, he pushed my hand away. “No, not here. On the other side, you can push it."

"Other side?" For the first time today, a creeping fear moved into my heart. "Grandpa... you're not sending me away, are you?" His sick look made me shake. "He never came home when he got sent away. He died and never came home." I started to plead, "I don't want to go, Grandpa. Anywhere."

"Dear girl," he turned around not facing me, "in the very room we're standing in, there exists hundreds and thousands of universes, all jumbled together. But those don't matter. What matters are the universes that lie parallel to, that lie lightly on, the universe in which we live. In only two places do these two intercept. The first is at Tokyo, where it is highly guarded by the government. The second," he faced me, "is in the white room. The Professor on the other side has worked extremely hard with their government and our government to establish a connection.”

"I don't want to go," I whimpered. 

"You are our only hope."

"I'm just sixteen. Grandpa, I don't know where you're sending me, but please don't make me go." But all through my sentence, he shook his head, sitting down in the chair again.

"You are our only hope." I stood in silence, clutching the piece of red plastic to me. Where was he sending me? Jail? To a government facility? A boarding school? "You don’t believe me, do you Alexandra?"

"I'm -- I'm not sure what you're asking me to believe."

He stood up slowly, his joints creaking. “That’s better, I supposed. He was too trusting, too eager.”

“Who was?”

“Someone I fear you will encounter soon enough. For now, I can understand if you don’t trust me. But I need you to listen, and do one thing I ask of you. In the white room, there is a cabinet. You must enter it. Remember hide-and-seek?" I nodded slowly. "Just like hide-and-seek. Count 60 seconds exactly, and wait a couple seconds longer. And then come out." 

All of a sudden, I felt relief flooding through my tense muscles. This was just a game. Just like hide-and-seek. My grandfather seemed to be having slight mental issues, but that was to be expected with age.

"Okay."

My relieved voice did not seem to comfort my grandfather. But he walked out of the room unsteadily and I followed him until we got to the white room. In the innermost corner, stood a rich mahogany cabinet. 

"The energy concentration and the overlap in between the two worlds are so strong in that corner that any act of entering and leaving will bring you to the other side." I smiled brightly.

"Okay, but when I come back, we have to call your doctor, okay?" He did not respond, but opened the door. 

"To Narnia with you, child." His eyes shone unnaturally. I climbed in, noting the smell of aged wood. "Alexandra, remember yourself. And darling," I nodded, trying to be complacent and attentive, "the worst mistake you can make is thinking that this is a game. I love you, Alexandra." With my name echoing in the air, he shut the door.


	2. Handheld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is what it is

The first time I had taken an airplane, I had looked out the window and had felt the world spin before my eyes. Vertigo. 

That was the sensation that rippled through my veins now, while I dutifully counted out the allotted sixty seconds, out loud for good measure. If I used my imagination, I could feel myself disassembling and sifting between the cracks of my universe, drifting until I reassembled. 

I didn't use my imagination and stayed calm. 

Eventually, my stomach calmed down and my lungs remembered how to breathe without rattling. But before I could exit, I heard a voice speaking outside.

"When do you think she'll come out?"

It was not my grandfather's voice. 

"We have to be patient. She might be feeling sick and shocked. And her mental age might be much lower than her physical age, due to her circumstances."

It was not my grandfather's voice.

"I know. Do you think--" It was not my grandfather's voice. I opened the door a sliver, trying to see who was out there. 

"Oh, good, you arrived safely." My hand froze. "Don't be shy. Come out of the closet." The first voice snickered. 

I shut the door again. 

"Come out of--"

"If I don't recognize anyone, I'm always supposed to lock the door," I said, frightened. There was a silence. "And I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Another long silence. 

"Your grandfather told me you would be like this." I didn't answer. I couldn't lock the door, but I didn't have to open it. I started to feel the ground for a weapon. "Raised in an environment with no idea what the real world was like. Hidden under a rock like a crab with no shell. Sheltered to a fault and--" 

I threw open the cabinet, shaking with rage.

"It was for a good reason!" I shouted, "It was always for a good reason! He protected me!" Standing before me was a plain looking man in a white lab coat. I was half-sobbing as the neatly stacked memories crashed around me like Jenga pieces. It had only taken one wrong brick. "It is none of your business how I am!" The man smiled wryly, rubbing his scratchy beard. 

"--and quick to anger, to a fault." My anger drained away and then returned even more viciously, burning away my unspilled tears.

"You tricked me!" I screamed. "Where am I?! What did you do with my grandfather?!" 

"Easy, now." 

Instead, I jerked at my hair with both hand, causing long black strands to fall on the floor. 

"Where is my grandfather?!" I shrieked, making him grimace. I could feel my throat seize up. 

"You need to calm down," the second voice said, and I felt two hands encircle my wrists. Automatically, I stepped down, hard, on his foot, yanked my hands out of his loose grip, and jabbed my elbow into his solarplexis. The effect was an immediate whooshing out of the air in his lungs as he doubled over in pain, trying to take in air. 

"Don't touch me!" I was hysterical by this point. "Don't you dare touch me! Don't you fucking do anything to me!" 

Assistants rushed in to help the boy on the floor, but he waved them away. I registered white hair and honey-colored eyes before he held up both hands painfully. 

"Won't hurt you," he gasped. His face and arms were lightly tanned. "Sorry, don't pull your hair. It's beautiful." I stepped back, flinching at the compliment. His breathing evened out, although he was still bent over, clutching his abdomen. Eventually, he looked up and smiled. "You took me by surprise," he wheezed, "Can I just...?" He reached forward slowly and stopped when I forcefully punched his hand away, bruising it. After a pause, he continued, inching his hand toward my head, and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. Then, even more slowly, never breaking eye contact, he carefully took my hand and unclenched my fingers with rough, calloused hands. The simple actions calmed my rapid-fire heart, easing my trembling. My mother had done this whenever I was scared. "Everything is okay, Alex. Your Grandpa's okay. You're okay."

"Where am I? Where's my grandfather? Your eyes look like honey," I blurted out, blinking back tears. He drew up, surprised, and then smiled again, gently fixing the mess of my hair, one strand at a time.

"It's the clothes I'm wearing. Sometimes they look bronze. Or ochre. Or amber." He made small shushing sounds, those you would make to a cat in the gutter, or a beaten dog, or a crying child. "Your eyes remind of the sun in the sky."

"Well, aren't you a fireball?" My gaze flickered back to the man that was staring at me with raised eyebrows. I stared at him. "I am Professor Birch."

There was something calming about a familiar name in a terrifying, unfamiliar situation; it was like meeting an old friend.

"Professor Birch?"

"Ah, your pronounced my name correctly. Congratulations."

"Professor Birch."

"Congratulations, a second time."

"Professor Birch from Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald."

He winced.

"It’s better that--"

"But this isn't how I’m supposed to meet you." I could see the resemblance now. The same heavy-set build. The same brown hair and beard. "I’m supposed to save you from a Zigzagoon with a Pokemon I choose from your bag."

"Well, that’s what happens in—"

"I’m supposed to move to this town with my Mom, in the back of a truck." All the unfamiliar details were being thrown back in my face, forcing the words faster and faster out of my mouth. "It’s called Littleroot. And my Dad is supposed to be the Petalburg gym--"

"Alexandra, this is not a game," he stated soberly, in the same dire tones my grandfather had used. "In this world, your actions have dire consequences.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, and one of his aides brought him a cup of water with some pills. "In 1996, the first Pokemon game came out in your universe. It was so novel, so original, that someone from your universe went to interview the creator. His story was... strange, to say the least. Apparently, he had been a struggling artist with no purpose in life when he decided to do away with himself. He planned to jump from the top of a building, the location of which will remain undisclosed for security reasons. But when he prepared to jump, he found himself struck by a strange vision. He saw a land full of beings, different from humans, but different from animals. And as he watched, awestruck, they exhibited powers he had never seen before. He doesn't know how long he stared at the sight before him, transfixed. The image eventually vanished from the air, but never from his life. He climbed down and wanting to share his visions, he created a game that mocked what he had seen." The room was silent for a minute as I struggled to absorb what I had heard. "Our scientists hypothesized that the stress that he was undergoing at that time was just enough for him to see into our universe and glimpse the 'beings' in our world."

"So, the interviewer--"

"--was your grandfather." I paled at this bold statement.

"Grandpa knew the creator of Pokemon?"

"They were best friends."

"Bring me my grandfather and prove it."

Professor Birch cleared his throat roughly. 

"Oh, please. Doesn’t your grandfather look a little bit too familiar? Grey hair? Tan skin? His name is Professor Oak?" 

"Professor Oak was modeled after Grandpa?"

"Are you kidding me? Even I saw that reference from a mile away." He continue a little more gently, "Your grandfather is on the other side, Alexandra. I cannot bring him here."

"Then let me go home."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"You are our only hope." The boy behind me coughed politely. "Excuse me. You two are our only hope."

"I don't care. I want to go home."

Professor Birch eyed me warily. 

"You can't go home because that door only opens once a month. So even if--" he stopped when my breathing spiked. "Calm, calm. Just a month. If you want to go home that badly, you only have to wait a month for the particles to vibrate enough to gain sufficient energy for the door to reopen." The boy rubbed my back with his knuckles, trying to calm me down. 

"Dad," he complained, "You need to watch what you're saying. Mom always tells you this, too."

"Your mother demands many things, Brendan," the Professor muttered, while Brendan smiled apologetically. 

"Don't worry, Alex. I'm sorry this had to happen to you, but you just need to wait a month. Meanwhile, we can have fun, yeah? I bet you want to see some Pieces. Do you need to sit down?" I nodded and one of the assistants went to get me a chair.

"What pieces?"

"Ah, no. Pieces. With a capital 'P'. It's what we call, erm, Pokémon, here, because they aren’t complete without you. Legend says that there was a time when humans and Pieces fought. But one powerful Piece hated the fighting and bloodshed. So he used his power to make a pact with the humans. If the human caught the Piece and made it his comrade, his friend, his partner, then the Pokemon would become even more powerful and gain the ability to communicate with the humans."

"Like how in the games, trained Pokémon are stronger than wild Pokémon."

"It's better if you don't think of it as a game..." he said, but I wasn't listening to him. My thoughts were racing wildly, testing the parameters of this new universe.

"Are trainers called something else?"

"They’re called Completing Keys or C-Keys for short, because they unlock the true potential of the Pieces. Er, Pokéballs are called PENS. Not pens, but P.E.N. It stands for Piece Ensnaring Nets."

"So what do they use now?"

Professor Birch, who had been draining the rest of his cup, suddenly choked, spraying a nearby assistant with water.

"What did you say?!"

"...I asked, what do you use now?"

"Why would we not use PENs?"

"The same reason why we have electric collars for dogs. For more control, for easier management, for faster containment. Everything the advertisers say."

"...you’re not as stupid as you look."

"Oh, ah, yeah, I get that a lot," I said, finally starting to relax. "Can I get my Pokémon later? I'm really tired and this game is--"

Before I knew it, I was cradling my stinging cheek while the Professor towered over me.

"DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?! THIS IS NOT A GAME! IT’S NOT A HANDHELD YOU CAN PUT DOWN FOR DINNER! YOU CAN’T FEEL PAIN IN GAMES! THIS. IS. REAL." He passed a shaking hand over his eyes, which were ringed with dark circles. When he removed his hand, I could see the frantic look on his pale face.

"Dad! You’re scaring her!"

"Then, you explain it to her, Brendan!" the Professor spat, pressing a hand once again to his face. "You be the one to break her sugar-sweet image of the world! I can't do this again!" With that, the Professor stood up and left the room, along with most of the assistants. Only the beeping equipment around the room broke the silence. The few aides left scurried around, ignoring us, touching buttons and dials, communicating to the monitors in their machine language. 

"I'm sorry, he's been very stressed out lately." Brendan walked over to a first aid kit and took out a chemical ice pack. When I chose not to say anything, he broke it and lightly held it against my cheek. 

"What did he mean by 'again'?" 

There was a long pause before Brendan answered. 

"About two years ago, when you and I were fourteen--" My heart twitched at the mention of that age, but I clamped a lid tightly over my emotions, "--our world invented PALs, Piece Assaulting Lasers. At first, we didn’t care the Pieces were traumatized by this method of capture; it’s as painful as it sounds. We had someone test the product on Pieces by catching them and training them. This person did extraordinarily well, rising to the top and beating the Piece Keepers, which is your equivalent to the, um, Pokémon League. However, what we didn’t know was that these devices altered the mental statuses of the Pieces. The person’s Pieces retaliated and killed him. Now, this might not have happened, but the Person was a ruthless C-Key and this made the rebellion an inevitable event. The incident was quietly taken care of and now, only a couple people know about it. But ever since we introduced them, the government has favored the PALs because they are easier and cheaper to make and it makes catching Pieces easier, just as you said. They're horrible." I didn't know if he was referring to the government or the PALs. His voice quieted and his soft smile faded from his face. "But the PALs also keep Pieces from dying.” All the air went rushing out of my lungs and I couldn’t speak.

"...dying?"

"That’s why my dad didn’t want you to take it as a game. My dad made PALs so that Pieces could last longer. It was a mistake. He didn’t realize that death is a natural part of the cycle of life. It must have been the constant trips between death and life that made the pieces go crazy. My dad keeps saying that we're the only hope because we need to prove to the government that PENs are better than PALs. We need to use the PENs, they still sell them in most stores as a tradition, and attempt to defeat the Piece Keepers. My dad thinks PENs not only make the Pieces stronger, but they also keep the Pieces sane and respect their will."

"But that means..." I stopped my sentence, unwilling to say the rest of it.

"They might die, Alex," Brendan continued firmly. "But it’s better they die happy, as friends, than live oppressed, as merely tools, yeah?" By the fluorescent lights, I could see the fierce determination in his eyes. "Do you want to take the challenge? Just for a month. Just to see how far you could go. It would help with the data collection." 

I could see that he was pleading with me.

"I want to make a change. If you saw how Pieces enslaved by PALs acted, you would, too. I'm sure of it."

"...for a month. I think I'm in shock right now and part of me is thinking this is a dream. But if it isn't, only for a month. And then I want to go home." 

His face broke out in a lopsided grin, flashing his white teeth.

"Thank you." He held out his hand. "Now give me your Icon."

"My Pokédex? It's the only thing I have."

"Er, yeah. That." I gave it to him and when he pressed the blue button, the plastic case smoothly slid away to reveal a sleek, black interior that had a few buttons and an LED screen.

“Tracking device has been enabled,” a cool female voice said. On the screen, a very familiar, circular icon rotated slowly, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen it before. 

“So, you're in the first variable group. You're allowed to catch one Piece and one Piece only from each area you explore." When I scowled at the rules of the experiment, Brendan covered his mouth and laughed, which was something I had never seen a boy do before. "My dad wants to see if a C-Key can form a team strong enough to beat the Piece Keepers by catching the first Piece he sees. This would prevent 'building' a powerful team, solely to beat the Piece Keepers.”

"What variable group are you in?"

"The second. I'm testing out a device that my dad created. I think you can pick your starter now. I already picked mine."

“I want a Mud--” Suddenly, my head exploded in pain. I collapsed to my knees, clutching my head. I distantly heard Brendan calling my name, but it was drowned out by a much stronger voice in my head.

 

Pick the Torchic, Alex.

 

The voice ebbed away and then returned.

 

Its final evolution is very powerful. Its attack and special attack is unbelievable. Pick the Torchic. You will not be sorry.

 

Vaguely, I felt Brendan picking me off the floor and anger flooded through my head.

 

Don't let him touch you, Alex.

 

Then, everything dissolved into darkness with a faint buzzing noise.


	3. An Ending, A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blep

When I shifted through the haze and opened my eyes, I was staring at a white ceiling. 

"Hello." I slowly turned my head to left, towards the sound of the childish voice. Standing before me was a little boy with dappled blue hair and orange goggles. His shirt was light blue and his dark blue shorts matched his sandals. He nervously touched his necklace, which had a miniature orange life preserver hung on it, and shyly looked at me with shining, pebble-gray eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am Mudkip," he chirped, smiling unsurely, still playing with his life preserver charm. "My name is Torrent."

"Oh. Oh! Oh, wow!" I forced myself up, making his forehead wrinkle in worry, "I was expecting a large fish or a frog. I thought that would be the most realis-- oh, God, you're cute!" He took a step towards me and reached out a tiny hand, which I took. “You can talk, too! Hi, I'm Alexandra. Hi, Torrent. Can I hug you? I'm going to hug you." Torrent wrapped an arm around my neck. He smelled like a stream. "Jesus, you are extremely cute. I was not expecting this. Not at all." 

He frowned for a second and then smiled prettily. 

"You talk a lot. You're funny." He tightened his hold on my hand. "I like you. Also, Brendan is over there."

I had been so absorbed in Torrent, that I didn't notice Brendan to my right, sleeping on a chair. 

"How long has he been here?"

"The whole night. Are you gonna be okay now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm going to be okay. I think it was the vertigo from traveling between different universes." Torrent nodded like he understood and I turned to look at Brendan. He was wearing the same sleeveless black vest and white t-shirt as yesterday but had changed from his jeans into dark blue sweatpants. The sun glinted off the frosted strands of his hair and the same sunlight softened the worried lines on his face. Slowly, I reached out and touched his hand, uncurling his fingers. His eyes opened and I realized that the eyelashes that framed his cinnamon eyes were white as well. When he recognized that I was awake, his fingers squeezed mine and he sat up rapidly in his chair.

"Alex! Are you okay? You said your head was hurting and then you blacked out."

"Ah, yeah, I'm fine. It wasn't a dream then? Everything?"

Brendan shook is head. With his free hand, he started to smooth my hair again, fixing it. 

"You had us worried there. You were screaming something about the voice being too loud."

"Really?" I thought hard, but already, the memory was fading from me.

"I see you've met Torrent."

"Ah, yeah. Do they all look like Torrent?"

"Every Piece in a specie looks similar, but not the same. Just like people." One of the assistants from yesterday walked in with a PEN, nestled the iconic red and white ball in my hand, and left. 

"Do they say anything?" I whispered when he had left.

"They don't like teenagers," Brendan whispered back and laughed, again, with his hand over his mouth. 

There was a knock on the door and I looked up to see a young boy who was taller and built less compactly than Torrent. His hair was the color of beech leaves in the summer and he had on a red t-shirt. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his light green shorts. 

"Oh, Aspen! Say hello." The boy bowed politely. "Aspen is a Treeko." Aspen stared pointedly at our hands with autumn-colored eyes, then looked at Brendan, his eye brows raised. Brendan let go of my hand, a light blush staining his tan skin, and got up hastily. 

"Aspen and I are going to be on Route 103. I have to collect some data for my dad." Aspen was by Brendan's side in a flash and, like a squirrel, climbed onto his shoulders. "Your Icon has a map," he said, pointing to the bright red plastic square on the side table. "So you can use it to find me. It also shows what level your Pieces are and what moves they know. You can start training Torrent on the way to Route 103. Just to let you know, wild Pieces don't die, per se. They dissolve into energy and return back into the wild. This energy returns to the earth and is available for Pieces to use.” He smiled softly at the uncomfortable look on my face. “It's part of life here. One day, you'll understand. And when you find me, we can battle."

"Battle? But..." I looked at Torrent. How could I lose him already? I had just met him. 

"You can't avoid fighting forever. It's part of our challenge," Brendan said gently.

"I know. But most of the Pieces out there can't die because they're in PALs. Ours can."

Brendan's eyes darkened until they were the color of dust.

"They're dead already, enslaved like that," he quietly said. I shivered involuntarily at his words. "And don't worry, it'll be a light battle. Between us, I'll always stop long before your Pieces have any danger of dying." 

I narrowed my eyes at his words. 

"Are you implying you'll always beat me?"

He grinned until his teeth gleamed against his skin. 

"We'll see," he sang confidently, and strode out the door, Aspen balancing on his shoulders. 

 

***

 

All throughout showering and putting on my newly laundered t-shirt and shorts, I fumed at Brendan's parting statement. But one look at Torrent playing with the sink destroyed my anger.

"Torrent." He looked at me while I sat, brushing my hair, "You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

"Why?"

His eyes sparkled.

"Because of adventure!" he crowed, flapping his arms. Then, he stopped and smiled with an earnest look on his face. "Because I like you."

"Aren't you afraid of dying?"

"I'm not afraid of dying," he laughed and dramatically placed his hands on his hips, "Nothing can make me cry!" 

I didn't know how to explain to him that the people left behind were the ones that would be crying.

The bright sun beat down on us when we stepped outside, making me squint my eyes. I could see a couple of houses near to the lab I had stepped out of, but nothing more. There were forests on either side. Life seemed to pass quietly in this town, with its population tending small gardens and raising small children. 

"If we want to meet Brendan on Route 103," I said, consulting the Icon, "then we have to take Route 101, which is straight ahead." Torrent sucked on his necklace, looking around him breathlessly, and then ran towards the grass. "Careful!" I shouted. He didn't listen and plowed head-first into the grass that easily came up to my neck. I ran and caught up to him. "Torrent, you can get lost here!"

"But you have the map."

"But you don't have a map."

"Oh," he said carelessly, "I'll always bring myself back to you." He put one hand over his chest. "We share the same heart now and if your's is beating, I will find you."

I covered my face with both of my hands.

"Ah, no good, you're too cute. I'm going to melt." But Torrent wasn't listening. 

"Alex!" He threw himself into the path of a figure that was hurtling towards me. Torrent's kinetic energy rolled them on the ground, over and over, flattening the grass around them. 

"Tackle!" I shouted instinctively, the years of playing Pokémon kicking in. Torrent leapt up and I briefly saw the teenage boy with fangs, dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, before Torrent hurled himself at the Piece, colliding right in the center of the older boy's chest. 

“Ah, a Poochyena.” Torrent stood up. “That was a critical hit.” The Piece, which had been lying on the ground from the force of the attack, started to dissolve into stars. They floated away, scattering in the grass, all except a couple. These swirled rapidly around Torrent's necklace, making it glow, and eventually sank into the orange life preserver charm. Almost immediately after, my Icon pinged. 

“Torrent gained a level,” the calm female voice said. 

“Look what I can do!” I looked up just in time to see Torrent put the life preserver is his mouth and blow hard, making mud fly off the ground and land forcefully on a nearby tree. Sure enough, when I looked down, Torrent's move set had expanded to include Mud-slap. 

“Okay, Torrent!” I said, clicking the Icon shut, “Let's go level up!”

By the time we reached Route 103, Torrent had learned Water Gun. He put the charm back into his mouth and blew to make a stream of water shoot out and stun a nearby Zigzagoon. The girl shook her dark and light brown hair out of her eyes and charged crazily at us, moving in a zig-zag, her striped leggings wet. A barrage of mud knocked into her, making the Zigzagoon dissolve into energy.

“What now?” he asked. Battling wild Pieces and talking to Torrent had calmed the anxiety that had been lapping at my veins. I was finally starting to accept the fact that the situation I was in was not a dream. It helped that my little Mudkip was chattering happily, running here and there; my eyes, which had been stagnant for a long time, were forced to catch up with him. 

"Hey, you made it!" I turned around to see Brendan jogging towards me, Aspen still on his shoulders. The wind ruffled his hair, revealing white eyebrows. 

"Is that your natural hair color?" I asked when Aspen had jumped down from his shoulders. Brendan laughed, covering his mouth. In the sunlight, his eyes glowed tiger-gold.

"My dad said that when you started to ask light-hearted questions, I should tell you that he wanted to apologize for yesterday. And yes, it's my natural hair color. Do you like it?"

I nodded.

"It looks like window panes in the winter. Frosted."

"Ah, thanks," he said, his face tinged pink once again. Aspen snorted, which made Brendan flick the Treeko's nose lightly. "Do you want to battle now, or maybe you guys aren't ready yet?" The subtle derision made me furious. Aspen quirked an eyebrow, unamused.

"Let's battle!" Torrent exclaimed, tightening his fists in determination. 

"You're on," I snarled.

"Alright. Aspen, you ready?" In response, the Treeko tapped his thigh with an open palm. Immediately, a small baton with a sharp end materialized in his hand. He nodded.

"Torrent, use Tackle!" He launched himself at Aspen, knocking into him with his shoulder and then rolling away. Aspen flew backwards, but flipped in the air and landed on his feet.

"Aspen, Pound." He swung the baton and caught Torrent's forearm. Torrent slid with the force of the blow.

"Tackle!" It really was no match. After all, Torrent was many levels ahead of Aspen; I would definitely win. But just as I uttered my command, my throat seized in horror. If Torrent landed a critical hit, Aspen would die. "No! Torrent! Enough!" But he was already too far into momentum to stop. 

There was a bright flash of blue light and Torrent ricocheted off an aquamarine sphere that surrounded Aspen. The Treeko indifferently tapped his thigh with the baton and it dissolved into a handful of grass. 

"Oh, good. It worked." Brendan put out a hand, which Aspen took, and easily pulled the Treeko onto his shoulders. "It's really handy, right? It calculates the maximum possible damage my Piece is about to take and shields if it is deadly. Really, I think..." Brendan trailed off when he saw the look on my face and my hand clenched over my heart. "Are you okay, Alex? Is it the vertigo again?" 

"You incited the battle," I said quietly. "You can't--!" and I squeezed my chest until the rage simmered down. "--prod me like it's some kind of competition just to test your equipment!" Brendan reached for my hand, but I jerked it out of his grasp. 

"Nobody's hurt," Brendan said, trying to comfort me. "It was the easiest way to test the machine as efficiently as possible." 

"You can't play with my head that way. I thought I was going to kill him," I ground out through gritted teeth. 

Suddenly, something changed in Brendan's face. It became smooth and expressionless, except his calculating stare. I could almost hear the whirring of gears in his mind. His body position became neutral.

"If I had asked you to try to kill Aspen, would you have?" he asked, "Even if I had told you that the device would definitely activate during the battle, would you have willingly turned Torrent against my Piece?" His tone was stripped of the warmth it had possessed moments ago. "No. You wouldn't have. I know you better than anyone here does, only by spending five minutes with you. I calculated the chance you were going to agree to try to kill Aspen and decided to instigate you instead. I am a psychoanalyst. That is my role in the lab. That is my gift. Was it wrong to use my gift?" 

I felt bile in the back of my throat.

"You play with my emotions. You remind me of my therapist."

"And you remind me of mine."

There was silence.

"I don't like you like this," I said. "I like it when you look warm and happy and liquid." Immediately, he turned around, his back tense, his ears reddening. "But you are porcelain now. And I have no interest in that." I took Torrent's hand and started to walk towards Route 102. "Bye, Brendan."

Torrent looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye.


	4. Painful Twist

Route 102 stretched before us in an endless sea of grass and light morning fog. As we both appraised the promise of a journey before us, I could hear Torrent’s breathing in the silence, naturally shallow, like the waters of a creek.

"That wasn’t a nice way to say goodbye." Torrent said, looking up at me. I tousled his hair and pulled his head towards me, until he was leaning against my ribcage. 

"This is a secret, okay, Torrent?" He nodded, his grey eyes curiously analyzing my own. "I lived with my mom and my brother and I loved both of them so much, but a lot of people told me I was being manipulated by my brother and that he was the reason I was so sheltered. They told me he was a bad person." Torrent tilted his head wonderingly. "I still don’t believe he manipulated me and I still don’t think he’s a bad person. But my heart has grown cold to people who say something solely to get a specific reaction. I have a hard time trusting them." Torrent clutched my hands tightly, his eyes wide, as if he had the answers to the world. 

"I don’t get it," he said earnestly. I giggled at his confusion and he pouted, pulling my hand to start moving through the grass. "When I grow into a Swampert, I’m gonna say things you don’t understand and laugh at you!" He tossed his head. Already, the grass closed around us as we walked through. "Anyway, I don’t get it, but it’s still a secret." When he smiled at me, his nose crinkled and his pearly baby teeth flashed. "I will be the sea that keeps you afloat and brings you home. You can always trust me." 

"Where did you learn to say such cute things?" I stammered, my face burning crimson. Before Torrent could reply, I heard a chirp behind me. Whirling around, I came face to face with a girl that looked like she was ten years old. Her long blue hair was tucked underneath the red bandana around her neck. Compact wings raised over her shoulders, reminding me of birds of prey who opened their wings to look bigger and more threatening. The double daggers in her hands and slim golden bands around her ankles glinted against her olive skin. 

My Icon pinged in my pocket. 

"Taillow, the TinySwallow Piece," the cool female voice said when I took the Icon out and flipped it open, “Although it is small, it is very courageous. It will take on a larger SKARMORY on an equal footing. However, its will weakens if it becomes hungry.” Sure enough, the girl spread her wings, chirping angrily, and took off into the sky only to wing around in a tight circle and ram Torrent in the chest with a dagger. 

"Torrent!" I gasped. I expected a gaping wound on his chest, but Torrent just hopped back up and dusted himself off. When he saw my relieved face, he laughed.

"Don’t worry! We’re stronger than humans." I looked at his health bar on the Icon and true to his word, saw that he had only lost a little bit of health.

"Torrent! Water Gun!" He complied, but the Taillow corkscrewed, barely missing the hissing jet of water. Once again, she flew at Torrent, but this time, he was ready and jumped out of the way. “Tackle!” He rammed himself into her and the Piece went tumbling through the air. Landing on the ground, she started to concentrate, Focus Energy bringing together small sparks in the air, but before she could attack again, Torrent threw his body at her and she rolled on the ground. When she tried to stand up, golden blood dripped from her nose. Still, she struggled to stand until a cough burst out of her mouth, spraying the ground under her with the blood.

"Throw a PEN!" Torrent yelled, "or she’ll keep hurting!" I did, the red and white orb spiraling in the air, and there was a bright flash of light as the Taillow was trapped inside the ball. It shook for a second, as she tried to get out. 

After three twitches, the PEN clicked and rocked to a stop. Trembling, I walked over, picked it up, and clicked the button. The bright red light filled my vision again when the PEN deposited the Taillow at my feet. With one flap of her wings, she rolled away from me, but couldn’t stay in the air. Though the blood had disappeared, she still held her rib cage as if in pain. 

"You caught me." Her voice was melodic, with a slight edge to it. Light blue, accusing eyes, similar to mine, stared back at me. "Why?" 

I was shocked, partly because of the battle, partly because of her question.

"I… I want to be your friend."

"I don’t need that."

"Then what do you need?"

"Strength," she barked. "So that next time, I won’t get rolled by a small Mudkip." Torrent stayed silent.

I squared my shoulders and looked into her narrowed eyes. 

"I can give you strength." 

"Uh-huh." Doubt crossed her face, but she quickly became self-assured again. "I am Skyra."

"My name is Alex, and this is Torrent." Before I could go on, her face paled and twisted in pain. "You’re injured. We need to go to a Center." I scooped her up, and was surprised to find her as light as air, even with her two wings. 

She stayed rigid, embarrassed by the situation as I walked to Oldale. In almost no time at all, I was striding into the town and I located the red roof of the Piece Center. Passing through the doors, my eyes caught sight of the slogan, “Peace for your Pieces!”

“What can I do for you?” the red haired nurse asked. On her name tag was ‘Jacey’.

"My friend here needs help. Do you think you could help her?" She smiled.

"Sure! Just put her back into the PAL and we’ll fix her right up!"

"Er…" I felt flustered, "Well, I don’t have a PAL. I have PENs."

"That’s perfectly fine," Jacey said, "We’re a quiet town, so some of the old timers still have PENs. That’s why most Piece Centers keep around PEN Holders, although I wouldn’t know if the nurses knew how to use them as well as the PALaces."

"What are… PEN Holders? And PALaces?"

Jacey looked surprised.

"Goodness, do you not know this? They are the machines that heal your Pieces." Jacey had put Skyra back into her PEN while we were talking. Then, she placed the ball into what looked like a bulky tray. "This will only take about ten minutes or so. Until Skyra is healed, why don’t you refresh yourself? There are beds in the back and food in the dining room." With that, the nurse took Skyra into the back.

I didn’t have the stomach for food, so I collapsed on a fluffy couch and started to pet Torrent’s hair when he snuggled against me. 

"Do you hurt anywhere, Torrent?"

"No, Lexa. I’m good." 

I chuckled and leaned down to rub noses with him. 

"Is that your new nickname for me?" After an anxious twelve minutes, I heard a rustling noise and Skyra landed right next to me. Nurse Jacey followed with a tray of coffee and cookies.

"It’s been a while since I saw such a young trainer with PENs." Torrent was excitedly inhaling the cookies while Skyra carefully nibbled at one. 

"Someone kind of… asked me to do it…" Her eyes crinkled amiably. 

"Well, good for you! I always thought the PALs were always on the harsh side."

"Are the PALs really that bad? I’ve never seen one." Jacey thought for a while, while the crunch of cookies continued to pervade the room.

"One time, I was with my brothers when they were catching a Piece with a PAL. When you throw the PAL, the metal ring disconnects and shoots at the Piece. The metal must be heat seeking, because it always attaches to the radial pulse," she said, tapping her wrist. "When it clicks shut, it electrocutes the Piece, and completely rewires the neuro-sensory signals in the brain. They make the Piece more tractable and," her voice sounded sad, "they stop the signals of death going to the brain. I don’t know how they managed to figure this out, but now, Pieces are basically indestructible." There was a pause. "I don’t like it!" she burst out, "I like the PENs better. The process of training and bonding with your Pieces is special but now—!" She put a hand on Torrent’s head, who looked up and smiled, his mouth stained with chocolate. "But now, it’s different. What happened to enjoying friendship? These poor Pieces. They’re brought from the brink of death thousands of times. It must feel terrible."

"How wide-spread are the PALs?"

"Oh, they’re everywhere." The nurse waved her hand vaguely. "Up in the big cities, like Rustboro or Mauville, you can’t find a PEN anywhere. In the more rural cities, like here, you can still find PENs, but the younger generations are all about PALs." She checked her watch. "But it’s getting late, so why don’t I show you a room in the back?"

That night, I stared at the ceiling, my arms under my head, as Torrent and Skyra slept pressed tight against me. Skyra’s white shirt and navy shorts were thin, so her body heat crept through them to me, much to my comfort. My thoughts wandered and I eventually found myself thinking about Brendan. 

His hair is really pretty in the sun, I thought idly. But I couldn’t think of him without thinking about our fight, so I flopped onto my stomach, eliciting a yelp from Torrent, who quickly went back to sleep again. I closed my eyes and succumbed to the exhaustion. 

***

The small buildings of Petalburg slowly came into view. I marveled at the peace; for a person who had visited London and New York, Petalburg seemed almost rustic. I was slightly disappointed I hadn’t met any trainers on the way. But then again, I doubted people would stand motionless for hours just to have a battle. The game was incorrect on that aspect. 

Petalburg was also where I was supposed to meet my father in the gameplay. But as my dad was in the other universe, Norman, the gym leader in the game, would probably be a regular gym leader. Torrent happily skipped beside me, munching on an Oran Berry. 

"I’ve never seen a city before!" He exclaimed, his mouth and fingers stained blue, "The buildings are so pretty!" I grinned.

"This is a town, Torrent. It’s not even a city. If you want to see a city, you’ll have to wait until Rustboro or Mauville." I looked up to make sure Skyra was still with us, hoping the tiny black dot in the sky was her. "Okay, Torrent. Let’s go talk to the gym leader first. I know we’re not strong enough to fight him, but we should visit him and say hello to him anyway." Torrent quickly popped the rest of the Oran Berry in his mouth and swallowed.

"Okay!" he said, wiping his fingers on his pants, "Let’s go!" I put my fingers in my mouth and let out a blood-curling whistle — something that my brother had taught me. I heard a faint chirp and before I knew it, Skyra landed gracefully beside me. 

The gym was cool and shadowy, compared to the bright outdoors, so it was hard to spot the gym leader at first. 

So when I heard the scream, I jumped.

"THOSE EYES!" a man in the corner of the room shrieked, "I KNOW THOSE EYES! DON’T COME NEAR ME!" I whirled to the source of the sound. "WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED?!"

"Sir, you need to calm down. I think you have the wrong person." I put a hand on Torrent’s head and felt his growling through his skull. When the man saw my hand on Torrent, he shook his head, and his gaze lost some of its crazed look.

"A girl, you’re a girl," he started to sob. His thinning hair was brown, and his clothes were baggy. "It’s okay, my dear, you can come out again." A teenage boy with a white shirt and white shorts emerged from the darkest corner of the room. He had wild, white hair with a streak of red down the middle and he looked alert. On his clenched hands were white gloves with two sharp, dagger-like objects attached to the knuckles. 

"Come here, Vigoroth." The Piece came, still looking at me. He was constantly bouncing on his heels and his movements were quick. "Comfort me." Automatically, and much to my horror, the Vigoroth kissed the man on his lips and patted his head, his face not changing expression. I covered Torrent’s eyes, a little too late, while I heard Skyra chirp, alarmed. Bile rose in the back of my throat.

"What do you think you’re doing?!" The man looked fearfully at me. "Who do you think you are?!" With the mention of his identity, he straightened up.

"My name is Tavor. I am the Gym Leader of Petalsburg Gym."

"Why are you forcing that Piece to kiss you?! That’s disgusting!"

"I’m not forcing him!" Tavor whimpered, "You want my kisses, right Vigoroth?" The Vigoroth nodded mechanically, and the gym leader hugged him. "He and two others!" Tavor was muttering. "All I have left. My lovelies, don’t leave your Master alone. Ever since that boy,” his teeth creaked when he ground them and he hugged Vigoroth tighter, making the Piece wince, “but we’re safe. They have the same eyes, but we’re safe.”

I raised my fist to punch him, but he squealed and pushed Vigoroth in front.

"You are a weak man," I spat. His smile was tremulous.

"I once was a strong man. But that… that boy started my downfall. And I was broken by the… that… family… that brat…" he hissed, "That wealthy excuse for a trainer! That weak—"

“You have no right to accuse others!” At my outburst, the door slammed open behind me and we all turned to face a cute, ten-year old boy with light green hair and pale skin. 

"Tavor!" he sang and then stopped when he saw me in the room. "Who are you?"

"My name is Alexandra."

"Oh," he said, his tone dismissive. He turned back to the gym leader. "Tavor, you said you’d let me borrow your Zigzagoon so I could catch my own Piece today!"

“Of c-course, Master Wally. B-but could we n-not postpone—”

Wally scowled darkly.

"Now." His eyes suddenly turned wide and innocent. "I’m sick remember? And I don’t think my parents would like it if I got even worse." He turned to me abruptly. "You. Alex. Teach me how to catch Pieces better."

"Sure. If you have PENs—" Wally laughed, his shrieks causing Torrent to start growling again. "I guess you’re just a hillbilly after all! Nobody uses PENs anymore!" He shook his head amusedly and drew something from his pocket. It was a transparent sphere, as clear as glass, with a single ring of thin metal encircling it. "Here! I’ll give you this! I guess I’ll be the one teaching you!" Throwing me the PAL, he giggled again and motioned for me to follow him. 

"You’re not going to really catch it with the PAL, are you, Alex?" I felt Torrent’s fingers curl around my own.

"No. I don’t want to use the PAL. And it looks like we’re heading from where we came from. We caught Skyra there, remember?" His faced relaxed into a smile again.

"Remember!" He skipped happily.

We waded in the grass with Wally leading the way when we heard a gentle ringing. I was surprised when I saw a very small girl with green hair make the sound again. She had a red headband with a bow in the middle and was wearing and simple white dress. When I smiled, she smiled back at me, making the chiming sound. 

Suddenly, a Zigzagoon tackled her. Wally whooped in joy.

"Yeah! Go Zigzagoon! Tackle!" The Ralts growled weakly before the Zigzagoon, who was wearing a striped shirt and dark pants, attacked her again. "Watch me, Alex!" He threw the ball, and by some indiscernible force, the metal ring around the ball fell apart and neatly clicked on the Ralts’s slender wrist.

Her scream of pain made me want to scream with her. Her body jerked with the electric current while smoke curled from the bracelet. A burning smell filled my lungs and I started to hear Torrent cry. Finally, she stopped and disappeared in a red flash of light into the now milky white PAL. 

"Woohoo! My first Piece!" Wally ran to pick up the PAL. "Maybe I can catch another one!" Without me asking, Torrent knocked the sphere out of his hand with a forceful stream of water. When the PAL landed on the ground again, there was another bright flash of light and Ralts was standing in front of me again, except her sweet smile had been replaced by a blank look. Rage consumed my body, and for a couple of second, I could do nothing but shake.

"Release that Piece!" I said through gritted teeth. Wally glowered vehemently. 

"Why? I just caught it! If I release it, it’ll die. That’s how they make the PALs." A choked sob escaped my mouth.

"You’re terrible. What if that had hit you? What if you were forced to obey?" Wally shrugged.

"It’s not made for humans," he perked up, smiling sweetly, "although I wonder what it does…”

There was a blur and a click, and before I knew it, I was slammed with excruciating pain. I heard shrieking and I realized, with a start, that it was coming out of my own mouth. Then, I felt one last jolt on my wrist and the pain stopped. Skyra quickly removed the metal she had severed with her dagger. Above the noise of my sobbing, I heard his screaming, high-pitched laughter.


	5. A Rescue and a Reason

The ebbing of the tide filled my ears. I groaned, slowly stirring into consciousness, while the sound of the waves beckoned me to sink back into the comfortable warmth of the darkness. Every part of my body ached and creaked, complaining about the electricity that had entered my system. But when I shifted my right arm to get up, pain shot down my elbow, gathering at my wrist. Almost biting through my tongue in an effort not to scream, I rested for a bit, finding the courage to open my eyes. 

The sight that I was met with made close my eyes again and lower myself back to the ground, woozy. The skin around my wrist had had burned off in a perfect circular ring and I could see the red ropes of muscle shifting, revealing a gleam of white bone here and there. I shuddered, trying not to throw up on the worn hardwood floor.

Suddenly, I heard a rush of wings and saw Skyra’s form outlined by the doorway. 

"She’s over here!" Torrent came running, pulling a man by the hand, "Please help her!" In one smooth motion, the man opened his bag, pulled out a red spray bottle, and pinned my arm to the ground.

“Both of you, hold her.” Torrent sat on my legs and Skyra pinned my other arm. It was a good call, too, because the minute the spray hit my open wound, I screamed and thrashed at the burning of the medication. But, when the pain had subsided somewhat, I looked through my tears to see skin closing over the wound. Soon, the only thing that was left was an ugly, snaking scar, still raw, that ran around my wrist like a bracelet. 

"You’re lucky your Piece pulled off that thing when she did. The ring fused to your skin, and you got away with your hand still attached to your body." I couldn’t quite speak yet; the pain was making me grind my teeth. "Hyper Potions aren’t made for humans, but these are one of the times when I’m glad of the similarities between..." When our eyes met, he trailed off. I couldn't see the expression on his face, but his eyes were the color of jade, of celadon. I quickly closed my eyes again as another wave of pain sizzled from my wrist. "She'll be alright." And before I could say anything, he stood up and strode outside. 

"Alex? Are you okay?" Skyra asked sometime later, her feathers brushing my face. 

"I’m good," I said thickly, struggling to a sitting position. "Who was that?"

"I don’t know," Torrent answered. "I showed him your trainer card and told him that you weren’t from around here and that you were in trouble and he followed me. Oh, and," he stepped sideways, "we found her sleeping next to you. She’s a Poochyena." Standing behind him was a five-year-old girl with her thumb in her mouth. She had shaggy black hair with a grey shirt and black shorts. 

Her big, black eyes stared back at me, distracting me from the pain. 

"Oh, hello." She took one step towards me, one hand clutched on Torrent’s shirt. 

"She’s a little careful about everything." Torrent disengaged her fingers from his shirt. "Go on, Eris."

"Is Eris your name?" She smiled and nodded, her fangs and eyes sparkling. "Do you want to come with us?" She nodded again.

"I don't think she has a mommy or daddy," Torrent said. "She must have been kinda cold. That's why she snuggled up to you."

"Welcome to the team, Eris." I held out my arms. Cautiously, stepped into my arms and licked my face. Then, avoiding my bad wrist, which she also gently licked, she helped me stand up. On my feet, I shook out the kinks in my body, making sure not to move my wrist too much. "By the way, where am I?"

"Route 104. We’re in somebody’s cottage. It was open, so we dragged you in."

"Okay." Reaching for Torrent and Skyra, I pulled them both into a hug. "You two saved my life." 

Torrent simply smiled.

"I would have died if you did," he said, nuzzling my neck.

"And we couldn’t have you dying too soon," said Skyra, scowling. 

 

No, we couldn’t have that.

 

I cocked my head. "Did any of you hear that?" I heard a slightly buzzing. 

"Hear what?" Eris asked, her voice rough in her throat and warm. We were silent, listening.

"The electricity probably affected my brain." Scooping up my bag, I took Eris's and Torrent's hand and started the walk to Petalburg Woods.

 

***

 

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep." Skyra landed beside me with a thump as we made our way through the dappled green light of the woods. "But I have promises to keep." The tall grass rustled as we walked. "And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep."

"Hey you!" 

I whirled around to face the voice, which came from a boy who looked eight years old. "Let’s battle!"

"Six Wurmples, I assume?" My first battle had been hours ago and by now, the novelty had worn off. The trainers were too easy, and the sight of the blank faces of the Pieces controlled by the PALs made me sick. 

"One Wurmple! I need to train! I’m going to become famous!” 

I sighed and whistled with my fingers.

"Go ahead, Skyra." Within seconds, she was airborne.

"Eat her up, Wurmple." A spike of nausea hit me when I saw the boy with red, spiked up hair, a shirt with a red back and cream-colored front, and cream-colored shorts. There was no emotion on his face and his eyes were completely black, with no distinguishable irises. He shook both his hands sharply, and a ruby bracelet twined around his wrist, palm, middle, and ring finger on both hands.

"Skyra, Peck!" She corkscrewed in the air, diving towards the Wurmple with her daggers, but missed by an inch. The slipstream of her flight made the Wurmple spin, and I saw narrow, cream-colored triangles on the back of his shirt. 

“String Shot!” He aimed his middle and ring finger at Skyra and shot a thick rope of web from the bracelet. Skyra looped away, and this time, her Peck hit. Soon, I was walking away from the infuriated boy, who started off towards the Piece Center with his Wurmple in his PAL.

We stopped to rest on a log. 

"We're getting our next team mate here, right?" Torrent asked, pulling on my sleeve. 

"Hm, maybe." I massaged my head. I would have been in a better mood, but all the empty stares of the Pieces, the aching in my bones, the excruciating headaches, and the source-less murmurs of voices I kept hearing made by day terrible. "Do you think we'll get another Taillow?"

"I'm the only Taillow on this team," Skyra snarled.

I chuckled. 

"I thought birds only sang and chirped prettily, but you can bark like Eris, too, huh?" I teased, grinning. Eris looked up when she heard her name and when she determined it wasn't anything important, looked down and continued to play with the grass.

Skyra rolled her eyes and made a soft cooing sound.

"She said a bad word!" Torrent erupted in a fit of laughter. Before I could ask what the cooing had meant, Eris jumped up and barked. The grass rustled and a boy that looked thirteen, or so parted the grass and frowned at me. He wore a peach cap, a peach shirt with several green spots on it, and green shorts. On his feet were green canvas shoes. When his frown deepened, I couldn’t help thinking it looked very familiar. From inside my pocket, my Icon dinged. 

"Shroomish," it recited, "the Mushroom Piece. It loves to eat damp, composted soil in forests. If you enter a forest after a long rain, you can see many SHROOMISH feasting on composted soil." 

Quietly, I took out a PEN. Eris growled, diverting the Shroomish's attention and I whipped the ball at him. After a couple of tense seconds, it stopped rocking. 

The teenager’s frown grew even worse when he was released from his PEN. 

"Let me go."

I shut my mouth, my friendly words dying away.

"Er, my name is Alex--" 

"I said," he hissed, "let me go. I'm not going with you!" He started to walk away.

"But it'll be fun," Torrent said. 

"Dying is not fun!"

"Coward," Skyra muttered. The Shroomish turned to her.

"What did you say?"

Skyra raised her wings, the sunlight highlighting the blue edging around them and lighting up the white middle. Her knees bent, prepared to defend her position. 

"You heard me. Coward." In a moment, they were tumbling on the ground, trying to get the upper hand. Torrent jumped in gleefully but was immediately knocked back by a wall of wind. He rolled away, giggling. Skyra beat her wings, jerking herself away, and landed on the Shroomish's back, pointing a dagger to his neck and twisting his arm back. "I have the type advantage." Slowly her wings lowered, and she extricated herself, leaving the Shroomish breathing hard. With one hand, he wiped the blood off his mouth. "But, I was wrong." The Shroomish looked at her. "You are not a coward."

"Name?"

"Skyra. Yours?"

"Briar." Briar’s face was almost smiling. Almost. "You seem fun. I'll come along."

"Good-o! Welcome to the team!" Torrent cried, leaping on him. 

I heard a desperate shout.

"Trouble!" Eris barked, twisting out of my arms. There was a silence, and she was still, tense, in a half-crouched position. We heard the shout again, echoing with a note of pain that had not been there before. She barked again and bolted towards the sound. Briar dropped Torrent and we all leapt after her, zigzagging through the tall grass. 

In a clearing in the trees, there were two men, one on the ground and one in a tree, cornered by a Poochyena. The man on the ground was wearing a white shirt with blue stripes, black pants, and a bandanna, with what looked like a modification of the Jolly Roger symbol. He was going through a briefcase with intense concentration, while the man above him looked on helplessly. 

"Please! Give it back to me! I’ll give you all my money!" screamed the man in the tree, who was wearing casual business attire. "There are important things in there!"

"I’ll give it back as soon as I find the Goods!"

"Hey! Stop it!" Both of the men looked at me, but the Poochyena continued to stare at the man in the suit. 

"Mind your own business, kid." He went back to ruffling through the briefcase. 

"Hey! You filthy pirate!" For the second time, he looked up. The expression on his face was shocked.

"That was a nasty thing to say."

The man in the tree nodded.

"I agree. That was excruciatingly insensitive. Just because he has a bandana doesn’t mean he’s a pirate."

"Furthermore, I shower everyday, not to mention I brush my teeth three times a day."

"See, little girl? You should never fall prey to stereotypes.”

"They just hurt people. Together, we can build a better world." My eye had started to twitch. They continued smoothly, like a comedy skit. "What if I called you a dirty pirate?"

"And imagine getting called that everyday!" the business man exclaimed. 

The pirate wiped away a tear.

"People call me that a lot."

"Are you serious? I’m so sorry. I’m sure you are a person of wonderful character."

"But he's... robbing you..." I said. The atmosphere suddenly exuded an awkward tinge. "By brother was right," I mumbled, "men are weird. Torrent, Water Gun! Eris, you take the Poochyena!" A stream of water knocked down the pirate at the same time Eris tackled the Poochyena, who was about her size. Skyra darted in and grabbed the briefcase. 

"Gah! I’ll remember this!" the pirate screeched, shaking the water out of his eyes. "Long live the sea!" With that, he pulled his fainted Poochyena into his PAL and ran off into the deeper part of the woods.

The man in the tree slowly slid down, yelping every once in a while, and finally landed on the ground. Brushing off the dirt from his suit, he nervously turned to face me.

"Thank you so much! I thought I was going to die back there!"

"Die by agreeing with the pirate that stereotypes are dangerous?"

"He wasn't a pirate," the man scolded, then his frown smoothed into a genuine smile, "Thank you for saving me. My name is Stephan."

"Okay, Stephan. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand and he shook it. "My name is Alexandra."

"Alexandra, I owe you a big one. I had some important stuff inside this briefcase." He patted the side of the worn wood. "How about I give you a reward?"

"Oh, it really isn’t necessary, I--"

"Nonsense. As a trainer, you’ll be excited to have it! It’s the top of the line model for a PAL! We call it, the Great PAL. Pretty catchy, huh?"

"Ah... I don’t really use..." But at the look on his eager, happy face, I couldn’t say 'no'. I gingerly drew it out of his hand. "Thanks, Stephan."

"No, thank you, Alexandra! I think we will meet again! Goodbye!" Dusting himself off one more time, he strode along the path. Soon, he had disappeared from sight. 

I stared at the machine of terror in my hand. Stephan seemed like such an enthusiastic and kind person and yet, he didn’t know he was selling such cruel death traps. I placed it on the ground, like the other PALs I had found on my journey so far.

"You know what to do." With an almost invisible speed, Skyra lashed out, shattering the glass-like sphere and cutting the metal ring in half. 

 

***

 

We all stood in silence in front of Rustboro. Torrent tugged on my sleeve, still staring at the huge buildings.

"Is this a city?" 

I nodded. Even though I had seen London, New York, Paris, and other big cities, I couldn’t shake off the sense of awe I felt. Apparently, neither could the rest of the team.

"Why are we just staring?" Briar and Skyra said, in flat tones. 

Well, the entire team except those two.

I readjusted my backpack straps.

"Well, guys, this town holds our first gym. Let’s head over to the Piece Center to rest, and we can challenge the gym in the morning."

The Piece Center was an exact replica of the one in Oldale, except bigger. The nurse also looked similar, but her pink hair was in a ponytail instead of two pigtails.

"Wow, it’s really crowded," Briar said, looking around. I couldn’t speak; the feeling of wanting to vomit was too strong. I wondered if I would ever get used to the vacant eyes of the once lively Pieces. On the wall, I saw a huge poster that said, in big letters, "PALaces and PEN Holders. PALaces and PEN Holders are healing sites for Pieces in PALs and PENs, respectively," I read to myself. "PEN Holders do not heal permanently. This is one of their weakest points. They fix any broken bones, blood vessels, and organs through electromagnetic, nano-biotic repositioning, where tiny nano-bots gently guide and hold injured places so they can heal. The nano-bots are then passed out of the blood system through carbon excretion. The Pieces are also given a dose of general antibiotics and non-harmful steroidal substitutes. True bed rest cannot replace PEN Holders. However, PEN Holders are quickly becoming obsolete, due to their inefficiency in healing. For PALaces, the healing is permanent. In a complex system of adding telomeres to the end of DNA strands, using electrostatic friction healing broken bones, organs, and blood vessels, and giving another electrotherapy shock to ensure that the neuro-sensory death receptors of the brain are blocked, your Piece is made to be as good as new and can be used to fight immediately! The perks..." There was nothing in the article about the scream of pain that come out of the Ralts’s mouth. Nothing describing the Vigoroth's dull kiss. Nothing describing the still throbbing pain around my wrist. Nothing on the emotionless gazes and soundless movements of the Pieces.

At this point, I stopped reading. It wasn’t worth it.

I approached the nurse at the counter, who was busy texting on her phone and chewing bubblegum as pink as her hair.

"Ummm... excuse me..."

"It’s after 8PM." She pointed at some machines to the side of the room, not looking up from her phone. "The emergency PALaces are open for use. Have a nice day."

"Actually, I have PENs." 

She looked up, her eyebrow arching.

"Seriously?" When I nodded, she sighed heavily. "Fine. My name is Jamie. I’ll be your nurse today. Please put your Pieces back in your PENs and give them to me." There was a blinding flash of red light when everybody returned to his or her ball. "This might take a while. I have to get out the instruction manual." She disappeared into the back and I faintly heard her say, "Another retard." At this point, I was too tired to care. I sat on a plush couch and dozed in midst of the bustle of trainers coming in to expose happily their Pieces to electrotherapy. In about an hour’s time, Briar reached me first, carrying the sleeping Torrent in his arms, and was quickly followed by Skyra. Eris leaped after them on all fours, landing on the couch next to me, wagging a tail I never knew she had. 

"You had a tail?" I passed my hand over the soft fur, as black as her hair, and mine. 

"Yes. I tucked it into my shorts." Under my petting, her tail made a quirky question mark.

"Do most Pieces have tails?" 

Eris shrugged and yawned soon after. 

"Come on," I said, standing up and taking Torrent from Briar, "Let’s go find a room in the back."

Soon, we were all settled in two beds. All of my Pieces fell asleep immediately, but I was left with the irritating insomnia that I had recently developed. Knowing I would go to sleep sooner or later, I let my mind wander, trying to block out the whisperings that I kept hearing. 

 

Alex, you can’t ignore me forever.

 

It was such a familiar voice, but I couldn’t place it. All of a sudden, I realized I had heard it when I had been choosing my starter Piece. But it was something beyond that. I groaned softly, making Eris whimper.

 

So you remember.

 

I sighed and shifted onto my stomach. My mind was really active this evening. 

 

July 17, two years ago.

 

And now my subconscious was bringing up dates I didn’t want to remember. I cuddled closer to Torrent and fell asleep. 

 

***

 

"Bienvenido, challenger! Welcome! Cómo estás? My name is Alma." The first Gym Leader looked like a college student. Her hair was arranged into buns and pigtails, all tied together by a bright pink ribbon that matched her leggings. She also had a pink tie, which complimented her blue dress. "What’s your name?"

"Hello, you speak Spanish! That's pretty cool!" I replied, wondering if that languages in both worlds were the same. "I’m good. A little nervous."

"Bien! Bien! Being nervous keeps you on your toes." She took the first of her PALs. "I became a Gym Leader so that I may apply what I learned at the Piece Trainer's School in battle. Would you kindly demonstrate how you battle, and with which Piece?" When she threw her PAL, a small child tumbled out. At first, I couldn’t tell if it was a girl or boy, since the child’s brown hair was cropped so short. He or she was wearing a plain brown shirt and beige shorts. To my surprise, rock pieces from the ground immediately started to gather together directly on skin, creating an armor-like structure.

"Geodude," my Icon interrupted, "the Rock Piece. It climbs mountain paths using only the power of its arms. Because they can make themselves look like boulders lining paths, hikers may step on them without noticing." I bit my tongue at the female symbol at the side of the name. 

"Huh. Who would’ve thought..." Shrugging my shoulders, I threw my PEN, flinging Briar out, who flipped gracefully and landed in front of the Geodude.

"A PEN?" Alma shook her head in disapproval. "Outdated technology isn’t good for la educación."

"Better than brainwashing the Pieces. Briar, Bullet Seed!" Briar pulled out a slingshot, and pelted the Geodude with seeds, aiming for the nose and mouth. The Geodude accidently swallowed one, and in a matter of seconds, a sharp plant had sprouted from her navel, golden blood pouring from the hole. She collapsed in a dead faint, and Alma withdrew her into her PAL.

"Brainwash? Are you really falling for that? You are still a child! Una niña!" She threw her second PAL, releasing another girl who looked similar to the first Geodude. "Harden!" More rock pieces flew up to the Geodude’s skin, strengthening the armor.

"Forcing Pieces to do whatever you want them to. I would call that brainwash. Briar, drain her!" When Briar drew back his slingshot, golden blood exploded out of the Geodude’s eyes, nose, and mouth, and oozed from her pores. Some of it turned into a mist and swirled around Briar, slowly disappearing, while the Geodude slowly collapsed. 

I had to hold Torrent to keep from throwing up. He smiled up at me and rubbed my hand.

Even with all the blood loss, the machine would fix the Geodude. Again and again, constantly jerked between the lines of death and life. Anybody would go insane.

"That’s not brainwash, it’s just a way to communicate. My Nosepass agrees!" She sent out her last Piece. For the first time, the Piece did not look like a child or a teenager, but a woman, who looked like she was in her early twenties. She had a light blue cape with a hood, held together by an red-orange brooch. Underneath, she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that were both light blue. On her face was a bright red-orange surgical mask that covered her mouth and nose. She tapped the front of her dark blue boot on the ground. "I’m right, Nosepass, no?" Nosepass nodded. Always blankly. "Romb Tomb!" Huge boulders crashed around Briar.

"Briar!" I screamed. 

A boulder wobbled and crashed to the ground, revealing a sweating Briar.

"I’m fine."

"No you’re not! Let Torrent switch in!"

"I’d rather not." He leapt forward and pulled back his slingshot. Once again, blood flooded from every orifice and pore that Nosepass had. The golden mist swirled around Briar again, and he stood up straighter, cuts visibly healing. Alma started clapping, putting the Nosepass back into her ball. 

"Well done! It seems that I still have much more to learn. The Piece Keepers’ rules state that Trainers are to be given this if they defeat a Gym Leader. Please accept the official Piece Keeper Stone Sticker."

Briar took it with a dirty hand.

"...I beat you... and I get a sticker?"

"At first, we used actual items. A badge of some sort. But so much rattling! So now, we just have a sticker to put on your trainer’s card."

"I somehow feel a little disapoin--!" Briar grunted when Skyra tackled him. 

"You're ridiculously lucky you got the first gym!" she said, laughing for the first time. Her eyes were burning with an inner fervor. "I would have taken them on, but letting you do it was the second best choice!"

Briar rubbed the back of his head.

"You're so noisy. I just have a type advantage, that's all," he replied. Skyra simply grinned.

"You are not a coward," she said spiritedly. Briar's constant frown softened for a moment and he gently tugged on her bandana. But his frown returned almost immediately. 

"Well, you would have gotten completely destroyed by this gym, since--" He was interrupted by a punch to the face. Torrent yelped, grabbed a Potion out of my bag, and ran to Briar, who sat, dazed, on the ground, holding his nose. Eris sat down nearby and patted Briar's hair. 

"I still have a type advantage, dirt-eater!" 

As Torrent frantically sprayed Briar in the face, I looked up from this interaction to see Alma looking almost longingly at my team.

"You could always change back to PENs," I said, gently.

Alma looked at me with eyes that seemed to stretch into years of sadness. 

"When you lose your first Piece," she said, softly, "You will understand why I chose a PAL."


	6. Sepukku

"Don’t we know that guy?"

"Skyra, you're twenty feet in the air. You're going to have to be a bit more specific," I shouted, so my voice would carry. We had just come out from the Piece Center, and Skyra, who had been cooped up in the room for the entire night, had immediately launched into the sky.

"Brown hair. Long legs. Nervous. Enthusiastic."

"Still not helping!" 

She wheeled down lazily and landed beside me.

"We met him while he was being assaulted in the woods."

"Stephan?"

"Yeah. Him."

"You see him?"

"He’s getting robbed again."

At that instant, we heard the same frantic shout we had heard a few days ago. Once again, Eris barked and sprinted towards the sound. 

"You could have told me that sooner!" I said, exasperated, while we ran after Eris. Skyra blew a raspberry. When we rounded a corner on the busy street, I saw Stephan with a phone in his hand, frantically describing the robbing. When he caught sight of us, he ran to me.

"Alex! It’s terrible! Someone stole my suitcase!"

"Was it the dirty pirate again?"

"That was uncalled for, but yes! It was!"

"Did you call the police?"

"I just got off the phone with them. They’re coming, but the thief is going to get away!" He started pacing, getting paler and paler. "My D-- Boss is going to kill me! The Devon Goods are absolutely necessary!"

"Stephan--"

"What am I going to do? I can’t chase him fast enough."

"Uh, Stephan--"

"We can't build it without the last piece! He trusted me on this! The plan--"

"I can go get the Goods for you..." I said in a small voice.

He whirled on me.

"Can you?! Can you do that for me?!"

"Umm... yeah..." 

He jumped for joy.

"Oh my goodness! Thank you so much." He grabbed my hand with such an adoring expression on his face, that I felt uncomfortable. "Alex, I’m counting on you! He went that way," he said desperately, pointing towards Route 116.

 

***

 

"It’s a new Route," Briar stated, while we jogged towards the end of the sidewalk, "But I doubt this Piece will want to come with us."

"We’ve only had two refusals so far," Skyra retorted, "there’s no need to be pessimistic." 

He thought for a moment. 

"I’m not being pessimistic," he argued, now picking his way through the tall grass, "I’m just being realistic."

"Oh, how I doubt that." Sarcasm dripped from her every word.

"Can you guys teach me how to do that?" I asked, "The sarcasm. I don't know how to do it."

"Do you not have sarcasm in your universe?" 

"We do, but I was never taught how to do it, and I was kept away from other kids, so I never naturally picked it up. I just recently started watching television, so I know it exists but..." 

Skyra was giving me a strange look. 

"Why were you kept away from other kids?" 

"Ah, well," I scratched the back of my neck, "it's sort of a long story. My brother was always really protective, and he thought that the other kids--"

Suddenly, a white blur knocked Eris over, who had been quietly walking and listening this entire time. A nine year-old boy dressed in all white was standing before us. He had a green belt on his shorts, and green, wing-like markings on the back of his t-shirt. He was also wearing grey cloth bracelets. When something glinted between them, I realized it was connected by something that looked like invisible wire. 

"Nincada," my Icon said pedantically, "the Trainee Piece. It makes its nest at the roots of a mighty tree. Using its invisible wires, it probes its surroundings in the pitch-black darkness of soil." I thought that would be the end of the description when the Icon added in its mechanic drone, "You are not a good person. You know that, right? Good people don't get up here. And they also let me out once in a while." 

For the moment, I ignored the last part of its sentence.

"Eris, Bite!" She leapt forward, and when she opened her mouth, blackness swirled in front of her, taking the shape of jaws. Her teeth clacked together a foot away from the Nincada, but the jaws made from the dark energy closed firmly on the boy’s shoulder and arm, gold blood spurting. It disappeared and the familiar red light filled my vision when I threw the PEN. After three rocks and a click, I rushed over and clicked the button again.

I found myself on my back with a wire around my neck.

"Nobody move or I’ll kill her." The wire tightened slightly around my neck. Everybody was frozen. "I don’t want to be dragged into this."

"You don’t have to come if you don’t want to," I said carefully, making sure not to move.

"Quiet! I still hate you humans. One of you must die if you want her to live. Which one?" There was a silence, and then Torrent burst out sobbing.

"D-don’t kill Lexa, you b-bully!"

Briar stepped forward, wearily.

"I’ll take her place. Just let her go."

"I don’t think so." They all flinched at the edge in my voice. "All of you go back to the Piece Center. Listen to Briar and Skyra. Get on the phone and call Professor Birch. He’ll pick up my body."

"We’re not leaving," Eris stated in her rough voice.

 

Oh, please. Enough with this sentiment. Do you think I can't take on this sniveling excuse for a--

 

Suddenly, I felt as if somebody was pulling the strings in my spine and I reached over my shoulder and grabbed the Nincada, twisting at the same time so my neck was freed, and threw him over me. 

I didn’t have control over my body anymore. Laughter bubbled out of my mouth. Insane, maniacal laughter. I now found the situation, which had been dire, hilarious. Every time I tried to suppress my laughter, more would spill out, until I was hiccuping and laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. And as abruptly as it started, it stopped. 

I gasped, trying to catch my breath. When I turned around, I found the Nincada on the ground, wide-eyed in fear. Further away from him, Skyra had already flown thirty feet into the air, Eris over her shoulder. Briar was standing in front of Torrent in a defensive stance.

"Lexa! You didn’t die!" Torrent blubbered. The tension completely dissolved from the scene. He ran into my open arms, crying as hard as I had been laughing. 

"Of course I didn’t die, silly." I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible. "I won’t leave you guys." Briar released the breath he had been holding and Skyra dove to the ground, breaking her decent last minute in a flutter of wings. 

"You bully!" Torrent hissed again. I turned my attention to the Nincada, who had been sullenly standing behind me the entire time. 

"Hush, Torrent." 

The white-haired boy and I stared at each other.

"You don’t have to come," I repeated, softly. He simply stared at me, fists clenching and unclenching. 

"I fear you,” his words were bitter, “and this is strange. My culture dictates I must come with you. So, I will. When I no longer fear you," he leaned in, "I will destroy you, Master."

It looked like it physically hurt to say the title.

"What are you talking about?" Skyra interjected, "At your level, even Eris can probably kill you in two Bites." Eris wagged her tail at the sound of her name, making the seat of her pants move. The Nincada, on the other hand, just glared.

"You can call me Alexandra," I said, "And it’s fine. You don’t have to come."

"Unfortunately, I do."

"Don’t you want to stay with your family?"

"You humans enslaved my family," he spat, "Our culture has almost disappeared because of the PALs you use."

"I don’t use PALs."

"And your family?"

"My mom isn’t a trainer. I haven’t seen my dad since I was four, and I know he’s not a trainer. My brother..." I paused, "...isn’t here anymore." My mouth arranged itself into a half-hearted smile while Torrent nuzzled against me. "I don’t have a family here, besides my Pieces and maybe Brendan." 

"Maybe," Torrent echoed. 

We stared at each other longer, until the Nincada bowed.

"I will not be the first to dishonor my family by breaking the tradition." Then, almost frighteningly, his disposition changed. Smiling happily, he chirped, "My name is Foxglove. Nice to meet you!" I was shocked by this complete shift, but my Pieces seemed to understand what had happened and introduced themselves normally. 

While they were doing that, I took out my Icon for the first time in a while, remembering the extra lines it had added.

"Well, you found me," the Icon said in its cool, female voice, "Congratulations. Was it worth it? Because despite your violent behavior, the only thing you've managed to break so far... is my heart. Maybe you could settle for that, and we'll just call it a day. But I guess we both know that isn't going to happen."

"I’m really not sure if this was programmed into you, or if you’re an A.I. unit."

"Do you think I'm trying to trick you with reverse psychology? I mean, seriously now."

"I knew those lines were similar! You're quoting Portal!"

"I thought you would enjoy the situational irony."

"Where there’s a malicious robot trying to conduct tests on me while I try to run away with a huge dimension-bending gun in my hand?"

"No wonder your birth mother left you at the doorstep." I rolled my eyes. 

"You can't use quotes if they don't make sense."

"Or maybe they do. How would you know?"

"Why does it seem like Foxglove is bipolar? Do you know?"

"You’ll find out on his birthday. There will be cake."

I sighed. 

"What’s your name? I doubt you want to be called Icon."

"My name is GLaDOS."

"Liar."

"Have I lied to you?" The Icon paused. "I mean, in this room?"

"If you lie to me, I will drown you. I don't like liars. Portal only exist in my dimension."

"And if I can quote Portal, then the obvious must be true." 

I blinked with the realization.

"Someone from my world made you."

"But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster."

"Who made you?"

"Classified information, test subjects." 

I shut the Icon firmly and put it back into my bag. 

"Okay guys! Remember we're still chasing someone!" I swung Eris up in my arms. "Let’s go. Foxglove, do you want to lead the way so you can--" Swiftly and silently, Foxglove jumped past me and wrapped his wire around a Taillow’s neck. Within seconds, the Piece had dissolved into stars, and a handful disappeared into his wire, making it gleam momentarily. In just a couple of minutes, the entire field was glittering with the stars. GLaDOS pinged. 

"Foxglove has leveled up."

We walked behind him, dumbfounded, as he laid waste to any Piece that crossed our path with his wires and teeth. Unlike the blood splatters of those caught by PALs and PENs, the golden blood of the wild Pieces dispersed into the shimmering lights, leaving the battlefield clean.

"Ah! Please! Give me back my Peeko!" An old man came into view, shouting into the mouth of a cave. "Please! Don’t hurt her!"

"Sir?" He fell on me, gripping my arms tightly. His face was red, his unfocused eyes wide with terror. "Please! Someone has taken my Peeko!" With a start, I realized his filmed, white eyes couldn't see anything. Spit gathered at the corners of his mouth and his wheezing grew into a crescendo. "She is my darling Wingull! Please get her back!"

"Sir! Calm down!" 

He started coughing.

"Please help her!" he managed to choke out. His knees buckled and Briar helped me lower him to the ground. "I couldn’t bear if something happened to her!" 

"We’ll get Peeko back for you!" Torrent said, "But you have to calm down or you’ll get hurt."

"I’ll stay with him," Eris said. I nodded.

"Okay. Keep him safe." We ran into the cave, peering through the semi-fog. The vague outline of two retreating figures shifted in the mist.

"Briar, can you use seeds to leave a trail? I feel like I’m going to get lost."

"I’m on it." He started to drop seeds.

"Skyra, cut them off." In an instant, she disappeared. After thirty more seconds of chasing them, I heard a surprised yell and a joyful twitter. 

"Get away, you stupid bird!" We caught up to see the shady man, who we had met in Petalburg Woods, caught in a stalemate with Skyra. Every time he would try to run past, she would use Quick Attack and lash out almost invisibly, striking the ground in front of him. 

Behind him was a petite Piece, who looked like she was about eleven years old. She had short, light blue hair, with a single streak of black down the middle, which was under a white and yellow sailors cap. Her collared shirt had blue on the cuffs, the same blue as her hair, and her white shorts had the same cuffs. Her wings were wider than Skyra’s and looked like they had been made for cruising in the air for hours. The yellow flip-flops on her feet squeaked when she jumped again, trying to get away from the criminal's grip. 

"Team Aqua," I said, "when will you realize that drowning the world is the worst idea ever?” 

He gave me a blank look.

"What?" was his reply.

"Never mind. Can you just give me back the Wingull?" He pulled out a knife and held it to her throat.

"Nobody move! Poochyena! Tackl--" But Foxglove was there before he could say the command. As silent as a ghost, he wrapped his wire around the Poochyena’s neck and bit down, hard, on the jugular. The wire absorbed the blood and Foxglove slowly lowered the Poochyena to the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done. Briar knocked the knife out of his hand with a seed from his slingshot. 

"Just give it up," I sighed. "Whatever your Boss paid you, it wasn’t enough."

"You don’t realize how important this is, little girl." He was looking around for an escape route, but Skyra blocked his every move. "I was told everything yesterday. You could not even imagine-- I was going to let go of my Poochyena, but I needed a Piece. You see, the water runs much deeper that you can see."

"HALT! THIS IS THE POLICE!" the voice amplified by the megaphone said, "LET GO OF MR. BRINEY’S PIECE!" The pirate’s motions grew frantic as soon as he heard the police approaching. Once again, he tried to turn around, but Skyra was constantly shadowing him. "LET GO OF THE PIECE AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! YOU WILL BE BROUGHT IN FOR QUESTIONING!"

"Damn it!" 

Without another word, he pulled another knife he had been hiding and drew it across his abdomen. It was curious, what he was doing. I didn’t quite understand his actions until intestines came tumbling out, and his stomach hung from his esophagus. Yellow fat slid from his organs, landing with a wet plop on the ground. His liver glistened smugly, and his kidneys looked like two sad beans hanging by a string. Crimson blood immediately splashed on the floor, and the pirate, trembling, fell forward in a pool of his guts and blood.

"What--?!"

Then, Torrent was covering my eyes and Briar was supporting me while I retched. The sickly smell of vomit mixed with the smell of blood and feces. 

"Get her out of here," I heard Foxglove order, "I’ll get Skyra and Peeko." I felt myself being led outside, still gagging. Stones rose to trip me, and only Torrent’s coaxing convinced me to keep walking instead of sitting down and crying. Stumbling out of the cave, I sat on the ground by the side and tried to control my frantic breathing. I couldn’t get enough of the fresh air. 

"Miss, are you okay?" Through my haze, I saw a police officer crouching beside me, holding out a cup of water. I quickly took it and gulped down its contents, only to regurgitate it a few moments later in the grass. He gave me another cup, and this one, I drank slowly, taking time to rinse my mouth.

"This isn’t a game," I cried, when I had finally composed myself enough to speak. "This isn’t a game at all!"

 

Who said it ever was?

 

"Get out of my head!" I screamed, clutching my ears, "Please leave me alone! Let me think!"

 

It’s only your first death, Alex. You’ll see much more.

 

"MY NAME IS ALEXANDRA! GET OUT!" Torrent patted my hair fretfully while Skyra hugged me tightly, murmuring something about stress. The voice seemed subdued at my outburst. 

 

I’ll leave... for now.

 

The voice receded, and so did the whispers.

"Miss? Are okay?"

"Who was that man?!" I turned to the police officer. "He was just going to be questioned! Why did he kill himself?" I pulled Torrent to me, holding him close. The police officer’s face darkened.

"He belongs to one of two very dangerous criminal organizations. The police call them Team Aqua and Team Magma, but only for identification sake. Most of the citizens of the Hoenn region call them Everything and Nothing, respectively. But we managed to find out that, within the groups, they really have no set name. Yin and yang. Water and fire. Death and life. They seem to think they represent the balance and yet, they are openly hostile to each other. We think that Team Aqua plans to flood the earth, while Team Magma plans to expand the land through the use of volcanic eruptions. But when we mentioned this to some of the members we had managed to capture, they simply replied with something like, 'Water runs deeper than we can hear' or 'Fire spreads farther than we can see.' We believe that the lower level members aren’t told very much."

"But why?! Why did he kill himself?!"

"We don’t know. Most of the members we try to capture do the same. Right now, there are none surviving." I felt sick.

"Excuse me?" I turned my head slightly to see the old man I had seen before approach me. The police officer walked away to give us privacy. "Thank you so much for saving my Peeko." Behind him, I saw the Wingull peeking around his legs.

"No need to thank me," I said weakly, "I’m sure you would have done the same."

"I'm sorry you had to see something so terrible." He touched the skin underneath his eyes. "Sometimes, I'm glad the world is dark. If there is anything you ever need from me, please don’t hesitate to visit me at my cottage on Route 104." With that, he called Peeko to him, who took his hand, and they hobbled away together. 

The police officer came back with a small, circular package. 

"This was found on the Team Aqua member’s body. Would you happen to know what it is?" I turned the package over in my hands.

"The Goods. They were stolen from someone named Stephan--"

"Stephan Stone?! Then they must be--"

"Oh, Alex!" 

I looked up to see Stephan running towards me. 

"You got the Devon Goods for me!" he exclaimed, "Thank you so much!" He paused, his brow furrowing, "Alex? You don't look very well." 

I didn't want to talk about the horror that had just unfolded in that cave. 

"I'm okay, Stephan,” I said and stood up reinforcing my mind with slow breaths, forcing myself to believe my words. "Adapt," I whimpered to myself. "Just like he said. Adapt, adapt, adapt, adapt..."

"If you say so..." Stephan said doubtfully, "Oh, here! Take this Great PAL as a reward."

"We use PENs!" Foxglove hissed, "In case you haven't noticed, our faces aren't as blank as the dead and we can speak for ourselves!" 

"Oh." There was an awkward moment as I started to pack up my things to go back to Rustboro. "Well... I have a couple of PENs, too, if you want...” 

I looked at him, puzzled.

"I thought PENs where thought inferior here." 

He squirmed uncomfortably.

"They are... but I still have a couple with me..." After looking through his suitcase, he offered me a Great PEN, which retained the classic design found inside the Pokémon games. "Just don’t tell my boss, okay?" And when he smiled, this slice of humanity calmed my jangled nerves. It was a pleasant smile. And it made him seem less twitchy.

"Thanks, Stephan. That's really sweet of you." 

And then he was back to his nervous self, stuttering about how it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

"Calm down, Stephan. You were cute before, but now you’re twitching again."

"Hey, would you like to come meet the Boss? I’m sure he would like to thank you for rescuing the Devon Goods. They’re really important for... well... everything!"

"I would love to but, I just went through--" He was giving me the look again. The excited puppy look. I smiled with as much enthusiasm I could muster. "I would love to." I called Briar to get everyone else, who had wandered away during the conversation, and followed Stephan back to Rustboro.


	7. A Message for a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know when you've written something such a long time ago and you read it again and you're like GOD WHY

# Retribution: Chapter 7- A Message for a Friend

“This is the Devon Corporation Headquarters.” The building was more imposing than tall. It held itself up, mighty and arrogant, smaller than any skyscraper in New York, but the tallest out of all the buildings in Rustboro. Its spires rose into points against the sky and weathered visages of forgotten presidents were engraved into its stone façade and Gregorian arches. “It’s pretty plain,” Stephan said sheepishly, “Sorry.” He was being serious.

I didn’t answer. The only place I had seen a building like this was a cathedral in Rome. I half expected to see a convent of nuns turning the corner as Stephan led me through oaken doors and a long corridor filled with stained glass windows. Skyra, who was the only one out of her PEN, silently swooped at the colored motes of dust floating in the air, skimming the ceiling, which was fifty feet above me. When we reached an opulent marble staircase, we started to climb, Skyra gliding above us.

“Why is this staircase so long?” I complained after we had passed two landings. Stephan, who was fifteen steps above me, looked back, surprised.

“Oh, Alex! I thought you were right behind me!” He glanced forward briefly, then turned back. “It’s only a minute or two more of stairs. Should I help you?” Before I could accept, Skyra wheeled back to me. Grabbing me under my arms, she flapped her wings hard and managed to get me half a dozen steps up. With Skyra’s help, I landed on the last landing.

“There’s something off about him,” she whispered in my ear when Stephan was out of earshot. “He’s really twitchy.” She landed on the ground. “You’re heavy.”

“I’m a marshmallow. There’s a difference.”

“A heavy marshmallow.” When I scowled, she kissed my shoulder in apology. I couldn’t help but smile after that, pleased and surprised. “Put me back in the PEN. I want to sleep. Bring out Torrent. He has a good sense for untruths.”

Torrent blinked sleepily when he came out.

“Sorry, Torrent. Can you keep me company for a little longer?" 

"Yay! I get to be with Lexa!” He grinned sweetly.

“Did Skyra get tired?” Stephan asked when he caught up to us.

“Yeah,” I responded, putting a hand on Torrent’s head. “Are we there yet?”

“Yes. This is the President’s office.” He knocked on a heavy teakwood door. “Sir, may we come in?”

“Come in! Come in!” Stephan opened the door for me and I stepped in with Torrent. Behind a solid, dark, wooden desk sat a heavyset man with white hair. “I am President Stone!”

A vicious growl ripped out of Torrent’s throat, growing louder and louder until it seemed to fill the entire room. Startled, I smiled nervously at President Stone and looked down to Torrent, whose life preserver charm started to darken subtly and spin slowly. I put my hand on his head but his eyes flickered furiously. He shifted into a more aggressive pose, his charm spinning into a blur. 

“Torrent! Stop it!" 

He wouldn’t. He had never disobeyed me before, but this time, he bared his teeth and continued to snarl at the president. After I tried to stop him several more times, I clicked the button of his PEN, returning him to the ball. 

"I’m sorry, President Stone.” I looked at the PEN in my hand. “I don’t know what got into him." 

He grinned, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Oh, I daresay it’s fine. What a spirited Piece! Although I’m sure he would be easier to control with a PAL. Would you like one of our top-of-the-line models? I’m sure the Great PAL would suit you wonderfully!” I squirmed, unwilling to criticize the products of Devon Corporation to their president’s face. 

“Thank you, but no thank you, sir. I think I’ll stick to my PENs. Sorry." 

He held up his hand when I apologized.

"Nothing to apologize over. I’m sorry I pushed my product on you. Everybody has their own preferences and a PEN is a worthy invention." 

I was surprised.

"Really? Even though the PENs are your competition?”

“Well,” he gave me a playful wink, “a bit of competition never hurts anyone, eh?” He thought for a moment, stroking his white beard, and went on. “I know you think that the PALs are a little on the harsh side–”

“A little doesn’t quite cover–”

“–but the reason we made PALs,” he cut in, “is that young adults, like yourself–”

“–I’m still a kid–”

“–could catch a companion with very little work. With PENs, C-Keys must weaken the Piece first, which requires the use of a Piece anyway. However, with the PAL, C-Keys don’t need to weaken any but the most powerful Pokémon. It was originally a device made for the young, the elderly, and the infirm.”

Something didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry, sir. Did I hear you correctly when you said ‘Pokémon’?”

“Did I say that?” He chuckled. “My, my, I’m getting old. Did I just make up a strange word?”

“Maybe you read about it?” Stephan added and then flinched when President Stone glanced at him. The president’s gaze, which had been warm seconds ago, turned ice cold.  

“No… I’m sure I made it up. I have a tendency to do those kind of things… right, Stephan?”

“Yes, sir!” he squeaked, “The most peculiar proclivity!”

“Does it hold some special meaning to you… er…?”

“Alexandra, sir.”

“Yes, Alex!”

I smiled and shrugged, not answering.

“Anyway, I probably made it up,” he replied self-consciously, “Age does peculiar things. Anyway, I would like to thank you for the assistance you gave when our Devon Goods were stolen. I’m sure you went through a lot of trouble.”

I remembered the smell of crimson blood and struggled to repress the memory. 

“Alex, if I could ask for your help in two requests…?”

“Um, of course, President Stone.”

“Excellent. Stephan?” The nervous young man stepped forward and handed me the Devon Goods and a nondescript letter.

“If you can, could you deliver this letter to Steven in–”

“–Dewford, and the Devon Goods to Captain Stern in Slateport, right?" 

He roared in laughter.

"Why, Captain Stern? That’s a wonderful pun! Stern for the boat, and why, yes, I do think he is rather stern. I will have to use that one from now on!” Clearing his throat, he brought his fingers together in a steeple. “You are a remarkably well-informed young lady. Indeed, Steven is currently in Dewford. Captain Giman, not Stern,” he gave another chuckle, “is in Slateport. Are you, perhaps, acquainted with Steven?”

“No. I don’t know much about him. I just know he’s your son.”

“Adopted son,” President Stone corrected. “Although our hair colors are similar. He’s a bit of a problem child, but I do adore him.” He beamed helplessly and I grinned back.

“President Stone, does Captain Giman’s name mean–”

“Deception? Yes, it does. An unfortunate name, isn’t it?” A smile slowly unfolded on his lips, and his storm grey eyes locked with mine. Suddenly, my stomach started to turn uneasily and I took an involuntary step back. 

_Ask him what he thinks of July 17._

I ignored the voice. 

“Well, I’ll be going now, sir.”

“Oh, yes! I’ve kept you too long. I trust that you can find your way out, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stephan, show her out please?”

“R-right away, sir!” He escorted me to the door and brought me into the hall, closing the door behind me. Immediately, I heard a slam and a muffled voice. I put my ear to the door, hoping to hear what they were saying, but the door was too solid and thick. Quietly, I pressed the buttons on Eris’s PEN. When she materialized, I put my finger to my lips. 

“Try to hear what they are saying,” I whispered inaudibly. She nodded, creeping to the door.

“…en she suspects something!” Eris said in the deep voice of the president.

“S-she’s a nice girl, sir! I don’t… would suspect-t anything,” Eris stuttered, imitating Stephan. She frowned and edged closer to the door, trying to hear the conversation better. I heard the dull thud of fist on flesh.

“You’re an idiot! Why would you say I read it somewhere?”

“…else to say, sir!”

“…the extent of giving her a PEN! What… our company?!”

“…won’t tell…!”

“Steven was much more efficient that you!”

“…am sorry for…”

“Sorry won’t cover the… you wasted. You… to be called my son!”

“I swear I won’t… time!”

“There won’t be a next time!” President Stone shouted, loud enough so that I could hear it. “You are my own blood! How can you be so incompetent?!: There was a slap. "The girl will deliver… Steven. As I thought… do everything for you. Steven… execute…”

Silence.

“Tears,” Eris said, backing away from the door. “A broken family." 

I scooped up Eris and turned around.

"Come on, Eris. Let’s go.” Halfway down the staircase, I heard footsteps.  

“Miss?” I faced the person behind me. He looked tired, and was wearing a white lab coat. “Are you Alexandra?”

“Yeah. Did I leave something behind?”

“No, miss. But President Stone issued a phone for you.” He handed me a black rectangle that looked shockingly similar to an iPhone and adjusted his glasses. "It’s called the–”

“–iNav? Or iPiece? Or something corny like that?” The scientist looked more frazzled with every word I spoke.

“It’s called the iPhone, miss. It comes from Apple.”

Sure enough, the phone booted up with the familiar logo.

“Wait a second. The Apple Company?”

“Yes. It was established by Steve Jobs.”

“But that means…!” I snatched the phone out of the scientist’s hand and sure enough, it was an iPhone. “But that means there are other overlaps between universe, not just the two! If Jobs was secretly trading through one of them, no wonder he’s so rich!” I stopped and looked up.

“Hey, is there anyway to combine the iPhone to another machine?”

“Easily, but you would have to Jailbreak it, and then move the files onto a USB. However, the Jailbreak for that particular operating system isn’t out yet.”

“Damn it! Why am I always waiting for a Jailbreak?!” I stormed away, legitimately furious that Apple’s restrictions had followed me to this world. 

"I put President Stone as one of your contacts!” the scientist yelled after me.

I wandered back to the Piece Center, not thinking of anything. But as soon as I was conscious of my thinking, my mind immediately focused on the gore, the blood, the frown on the dead man’s face. I shuddered. Eris trotted after me and brushed her hand along the buttons of the PENs at my waist, letting everybody stretch. Torrent sidled up to me, taking my hand.

“Lexa?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Fine." 

He looked like he was going to say more, but instead, he let go of my hand and ran to Briar. I felt bad for brushing him off, but couldn’t concentrate on it.

"Adapt, adapt, adapt, don’t cry, adapt, adapt,” I chanted in my head. The bile rose in the back of my throat but I quickly thought about nothing again, and continued to walk towards the Piece Center. 

My shoulder collided with someone and I landed on the dusty ground, butt first. 

“Oh! I’m sorry! I–” The voice sounded familiar. My light blue eyes met familiar honey ones. “Alex?” Brendan took my hand and easily pulled me up. For a second, he stood staring at me, holding my hand. Then, slowly, he touched a thumb to my eyebrow and another to the corner of my lips. “Repressing sadness isn’t good for you,” he said, disapprovingly. 

“I’m not sad.”

“On the contrary, facial areas 4 and 6 are slightly turned up. Areas 8 and 10 are tightened and 18 and 20 are slightly turned downwards. Those are the classic signals for the micro-expression of sadness, and yet–” he cupped my cheek and took my hand again, brushing his thumb over my knuckles, “See? It all flattens out. Hiding.” One side of his lips curled up listlessly. “Porcelain.”   

“Just like my therapist.” I jerked away from him, and continued to trudge to my destination. But I looked back when I didn’t hear any of my Pieces following me. Brendan was crouched on the ground, listening to Torrent, who was whispering in his ear. 

“Torrent, let’s go!” Torrent glanced at me, but continued murmuring to the snow-haired boy. I saw Brendan’s expression change from curious, to shocked, to something that turned down the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Torrent. You can’t tell him–” I took a great, shuddering breath as I tried to crush the stinging in my eyes by closing them hard. “Please guys. Can we just go?” I heard Brendan walking towards me. 

“Just shut the fuck up and cry already,” he said. 

Here he was, telling me to cry, when my entire life, I had been trained not to, unless in pain. Rough fingers intertwined with mine.

“Are you going to cry?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Do you want dinner?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t pull my hand away as we walked to the Piece Center.

***

I jerked awake with a scream, sending Torrent to the floor and Skyra spiraling to the ceiling. The room twisted in my vision, blurring through the half-reality still lodged in my eyes. I screamed again, attempting to erase the nightmare from my head.

“It’s a dream! Alex, it’s a dream!” Briar shook my shoulder hard, as if he was trying to shake the fear out of me. He easily avoided the punch I threw at him.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TOUCH ME! ASH! HELP!”

“Alex! Stop it! It’s a dream!”

“Ash! Where are you?!” Sobs ripped out of my lungs. “Ash! Why did you have to leave?!”

Then, I felt strong arms wrap tightly around me. I struggled and thrashed but I couldn’t break out of Brendan’s muscled hold. 

Gradually, I stopped fighting, and simply wept. 

“I’ll be here,” Brendan whispered behind me, his breath warm against my wet cheek. I was sitting between his legs, cradled against his chest. He nestled his forehead against the crook of my shoulder. “And the holding helps. I promise. Arceus, I promise. I’ve been through this.” Torrent climbed into my lap. “I stopped having nightmares years ago.” Silence filled the air. “Torrent told me what happened.”

“So what?”

“Not just what happened today. The entire thing. Including this.” He circled my burned wrist with his thumb and middle finger. “Does it still hurt?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“My mom committed suicide, you know.” I looked over my shoulder to find tiger eyes staring back at me.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t say, 'I’m sorry’ like the other people do.”

“I’m sick of 'I’m sorry.’”

“So am I.”

“Nobody means it anyway.”

“They do sometimes,” he murmured, yawning, “You just have to look for the ones that do.” He let go of me. “Here, move over.” When I did, he slid underneath the blankets, using Torrent like a natural hot water bottle.

From the other side of the room in the dark, Briar and Skyra spoke at the same time.

“If you do anything to her, we end you.”

“Anyway, I’m not allowed to sleep together with a guy,” I said, twisting the blankets.

“Did you brother tell you that?” Skyra asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then you sleep, and I’ll keep watch,” Brendan said, “How about that?”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“Yeah, but it’s what he said. Loopholes.”

Reluctantly, I slid down on my side and he tucked the blankets around me and Torrent, who was curled up between us. 

“Did you know that you’re beautiful?”

“If you do anything–!” Skyra’s voice warned.

“I’m not going to. But she is. Anybody can see that. Your eyes have ripples in them.”

“What am I supposed to do with that information?” I questioned.

“I don’t know. Put it in your self-esteem pocket? Save it for a rainy day? Get embarrassed like I do when you compliment me?” He ran a hand through my hair and laughed, but through my exhaustion, I could not see if he had covered his mouth. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

The last vestiges of the terrible dream disappeared with the breathing of another person in the room. 

***

I woke up with his hand curled around my face, in a gesture that evoked tears of homesickness. My eyes were still swollen from last night, so I cried silently for a while, admitting it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Here.”

I looked up to see Skyra offering me a small towel.

“It’s for your eyes. Put the towel over. It’s warm. I’ll bring you a cold one soon.”

I took the towel from her as she took Brendan’s hand and put his arm over Torrent’s still sleeping frame.

“Put it over your eyes.”

I complied. Around me, I heard the sounds of Briar moving around, starting to wake up Eris, who hated eating late, but couldn’t wake up without help. Skyra came back and I switched towels. I thought I could feel my swelling going down.

“Let’s go eat,” I said.

The dining room of the Rustboro Piece Center was vast, decorated with wood and iron. The walls were paneled with chestnut and the floor had a rich, red carpet. It had the old air of a mansion, as did the kitchen. I almost felt scandalous for eating a simple breakfast of toast and milk in this extravagant banquet hall. There were other C-Keys, but most of them were in the healing part of the Piece Center, busily running in and out of the doors. 

“Good morning.” Brendan walked in, toweling his fluffy hair. “Is that toast for me?”

“What? No, I’m eating this. It has my teethmarks on it.”

“Even better.” He snatched the toast out of my hand and took a bite out of it before returning it to me. “That was an indirect kiss.”

“Why are you so focused on that kind of stuff? Is it a guy thing?”

“Dunno. Maybe I look for love because I never had it as a child. Perhaps I never had pretty things growing up so I have to justify the rest of my life with all the pretty things I can find. That’s just my own analysis, though.” He disappeared into the kitchen while I thought about what he said. I stopped when he came back with a jar of peanut butter with Aspen, his Treeko, right behind him. “Aspen, say hello.” Aspen nodded, like he had when I first met him, but instead of a baton in his hands, there was a spoon. “Aspen loves peanut butter almost as much as I do. 'Almost’ is the key word here.” The Treeko rolled his eyes.

“That is so unsanitary,” I commented when Brendan filled his spoon with peanut butter, followed by Aspen. “That jar is the communal j–” When he was bringing the spoon to his mouth, his sleeve slid down.

He had a horizontal scar across his wrist, cut too cleanly to be an accident.  

I grabbed his wrist and pulled, trying to push back his sleeve. He locked his fingers around my hand painfully, making me grit my teeth and preventing me from moving. We stared at each other in this stalemate until he let me go with an easy smile. 

“Well, alright. If you must look, then look,” he said, spooning more peanut butter into his mouth.

They were crossed over each other, countless of overlapping cuts. Some of them were clustered so close together that they were solid block of white scars. They looked like misaligned railroad tracks, because running straight through them all were two vertical cuts that went straight down his arm. 

“I knew I should have worn the bandages.” He popped the spoon in his mouth and shrugged. “That’s why you never noticed them before.”

It was true; I hadn’t noticed them before. I thought he had worn the bandages as a fashion statement and had thought little about them. 

“Why do you do this? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“There are worse things than this. What if the world ran out of peanut butter?” he shuddered, swallowing what was left of it in his mouth. He started to scrape the jar. “That is my nightly fear. I actually had nightmares about that. Want some?” I pushed his hand with the spoon away.

“Why do you do this?”

 The spoon went back into his mouth and he leaned in closer, enough so that our foreheads touched. From this close, I could see his strange eyes focusing on mine, oddly unsmiling. He took the spoon out of his mouth and tapped my lips with it. 

“Do you know what it tastes like to disappear?”

“I didn’t know it had a taste.”

“Hmm.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, so that his eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks. “There once was a poem that I read. A part of it is, 'how fragile / this leaf of mint / frozen through, non-existent / at my touch. / The shatters taste of nothing / but ice.’” He opened his eyes. “It’s a pretty poem. And that’s what disappearing tastes like. A void. Nothing.”

“You don’t have to tell me this.”

“No, I have to tell you. So one day, if you ever meet a boy like me, you know how to take care of him.” He gave Aspen the jar and stood up, walking towards the door. I followed him. “I told you, my mom committed suicide. She hung herself when I was a five years old. But, before she did, she shoved a burning candle in my mouth because I was crying too much.” Brendan stuck out his tongue and I was horrified to see it twisted and pale, just like the scar around my wrist. I unconsciously rubbed my burn. “She had postpartum depression for a long time, I guess, but that doesn’t make me hate her less. That doesn’t justify my growing up without a mother or having a father who was half-sick with sadness and overwork.” As we passed through a glass corridor that led to a garden, he pulled back his sleeve and studied his arm, slowing down. "I was lucky I didn’t lose my tongue. And I was lucky it happened early enough so that I learned how to use it correctly. Disappearing tastes like this void I have on my tongue and sometimes, I wonder if I disappear completely, I’ll be able to taste again.”

He laughed, covering his mouth, and I finally knew the reason for it. 

“So.” Brendan turned to me. Calmly, he took my face in his hands and leaned in to brush his lips over my forehead. When I didn’t move, he skimmed his mouth over my cheek. “What does it feel like to disappear? For you?”

The copper eyes again, prying, begging to curl up in my head.

I shoved him away and stormed outside. When I found Brendan easily keeping up with me, I whirled around to face him. 

“Do you want to hear about how much I cried when my mother walked into my room that day?!” His eyes looked darker. “Do you want to hear about the nights I would wake up screaming whenever a car passed by, and crawl to my mom, who was always awake?! What about the way the elegant celadon urn looked in the light and how it contrasted with the ashes inside?! Or how about the packs of therapists that followed me around saying, 'It’s okay to disappear for a while’. THEY DON’T KNOW!” I slammed a palm into the center of his chest, “You can never come back if you go! And if you go… everything you want to come back to will be gone. If you ever find a girl like me,” I stopped, breathing hard and fighting back tears.

“Then what?” He did not touch me. “What do I do?”

“Don’t disappear.”


	8. A Fight, a Friend, an Evolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seventh grade me was an awful writer

I was angry. 

“BRIAR! WE’RE BATTLING!” The Piece Center had a small training arena in the back, and I made a beeline for it. Skyra floated above me with Eris; I could hear the other Pieces catching up. “Get your Pokémon out,” I said to Brendan.

“Pieces,” Brendan corrected while taking out his other PEN. Aspen leapt onto his shoulders. “I calculated wrongly. Why are you so angry?”

_Because she hates bad memories._

I chose to stay silent. Brendan tossed his PEN and a Wingull materialized. She looked similar to Peeko, Mr. Briney’s Wingull, but she had higher cheekbones and a small, pert mouth.

“Go ahead, Bagel.” The Wingull effortlessly rose into the air, wheeling in wide, lazy circles. 

“Lexa?” Torrent whispered, “You’re shaking.”

“No, I’m not,” I spat, “Get in there, Torrent.”

“Well, okay, but my levels–”

_Did I ask?_

“Did I ask?" 

Torrent shook his head. He was about to step into the training ground when Briar stepped in first. 

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Briar.” He said nothing, and merely adjusted his peach-colored cap. 

_GET OUT!_

The voice in my head was overpowering.

“GET OUT!" 

He continued to act as if I weren’t there.

"Bagel, Wing Attack.” She whirled in the air and I saw that the feathers on her wings were standing out sharply. Briar was thrown back when she swooped down and rammed into him with her wings, cutting him badly. Blood dripped into domed droplets on the dusty ground, sparkling in the sun.

_BRIAR! GET BACK HERE!_

“BRIAR!” I screamed, “GET BACK HERE!” Instead, he wearily got to his feet and pulled his slingshot back. Bagel faltered in the air for a second and dropped, blood dripping out of her nose. Her wings look on a golden hue because of the veins that had broken. But before she hit the ground, she fluttered her wings, staying airborne. 

“Wing Attack, Bagel.” She slammed into Briar again, and this time he stayed on the ground on his back. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he pulled back his slingshot with trembling arms. Before the gold blood came bursting out of her, the orb of blue light encased and protected the Wingull. It disappeared when Brendan clicked the button on the PEN. Briar and Skyra exchanged a look and she spiraled in as Aspen jumped towards her. 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!” I grabbed Briar by the shirt from the ground, shaking him, his blood flecking on my face. 

_I AM THE TRAINER! LISTEN TO ME!_

The voice filled my lungs.

“I AM THE TRAINER! LISTEN TO ME!" 

Skyra stabbed Aspen with her daggers at the same time Briar slapped my face.

"Stop it,” he said quietly. “Just shut the hell up until this battle is over.” He hit me again when my mouth opened angrily. Behind him, Skyra Pecked Aspen again, but missed when Aspen jumped sideways. “Don’t fight when you’re angry. You tried to send Torrent out against Brendan’s Wingull. Do you know what level Torrent is? When’s the last time you’ve checked? We will die if you stay like this.” He coughed and my face was coated with blood. “Snap out of it and get your shit together.” He pushed me and I sat, stunned, while he crawled away and lay on the ground, his back to me. Eris and Torrent crowded around Briar, asking him if he was alright. He responded with a nod. Skyra finished up the battle and once again, Aspen was wrapped in the blue light, alive. 

“Briar, I’m sor–" 

Skyra put Briar’s arm around her shoulders and flapped, helping him to his feet. They brushed past me, furious. Torrent kissed me lightly on the cheek and followed after them, taking Eris with him. Foxglove was already gone. The sudden silence was deafening. 

"I’m sorry I provoked you. I didn’t realize that something had effected you in your past,” Brendan said and crouched in front of me. I could smell the sunny scent of a warm meadow. “I won’t disappear on you.” I still did not look up. “And I promise I won’t cut anymore.”

“Leave me alone. Please. I beg you,” I asked softly. There was a pause. A small, black rectangle landed on my lap.

“That’s the Cut USB. Attach it to your Icon and let your Piece listen to it. I think it’ll help.” I felt a soft kiss on the top of my head, then the back of my neck. His fingers lingered near my cheek. “Call me.” By the time I had the courage to look up, there was a piece of paper with his number in his place.

***

“We’re going to Route 104. The cottage where your wrist was healed was probably Mr. Briney’s, but I’m not sure, since I never saw it. We need to get to Dewford, and maybe Mr. Briney has a boat or something. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Are you packed up?”

“Look, Briar–”

“ _Are you packed up?_ ”

I sighed. 

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry!” Foxglove said cheerfully, when the Shroomish had stalked past me, “Briar just thinks you still need to get your game together. But he still loves you! And so do we!” His mood rapidly became angry. “But love doesn’t exist.” I looked at him, confused. “What are you looking at,  _Master_?”

“…Nothing…” He snorted and turned away, while I fished my Icon out of my pocket. “GLaDOS, are you sure this is normal? He’s not like this because of me, right? I’m wondering how it will be if I take him to the Piece Keepers like this. Should I just keep going?”

“This is your fault. It didn’t have to be like this. I’m not kidding! Turn back, or I will kill you! I’m going to kill you, and all the cake is gone! You don’t even care, do you? This is your last chance!”

“None of that even made sense.” I felt a small tug on my sleeve and looked down to see Torrent standing next to me. Crouching so that my head was level with his, I took both his hands. “Oh, hey. Hey, Torrent.” He smiled hopefully.

“So are you better now?” I pulled him into a hug, inhaling the scent of running water.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Torrent. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said. 

“It’s okay!” He snuggled back, squeezing tightly. “You were just having a bad day.” He pulled away. “I’ll go get Foxglove so you can teach him Cut, okay?” When he ran off, I pulled out GLaDOS again.

“I love the fact you only let me out when I’m necessary.”

“You know, you’re almost as annoying as the Navi from Zelda. Do you know her, or do you just know Portal games?” Something clicked inside the Icon.

“Hey, listen!” said a high-pitched voice. “Hey, listen!”

“Oh, God.”

“Hey, listen!”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, listen! Hey, listen! Hey, listen! Hey, listen! Hey–” I slammed GLaDOS to the ground and there was a cracking sound. After thirty seconds of silence, it spit out a cracked chip. “That thing you broke isn’t important to me,” it said when I picked it up again, “It’s the fluid catalytic cracking unit. It makes shoes for orphans… nice job breaking it, hero.”

“Oh, I found the USB port. Torrent did you get Foxglove?”

“Yep!” I fished around in my bag for the USB. “GLaDOS, are you ready?”

“Good news. I figured what that thing you just broke did. It was a morality core they installed after I flooded the Enrichment Center with a deadly neurotoxin, to make me stop flooding the Enrichment Center with a deadly neurotoxin. So get comfortable while I warm up the neurotoxin emitters.”

“Good thing you’re the size of my hand, then. Shut up and load the damn USB,” I said, shoving the Cut USB into the port. The Icon dinged and showed a loading bar on the screen.

“Welcome!” said a computerized male voice, when the bar had finished loading, “You have uploaded the Cut USB. What would you like to do next?” On the screen, there were three buttons: USB Icon Program Information, Cut USB Information, and Start Cut USB Program. I tapped the first button. “For centuries, scientists have known that Pieces pass on moves to their progeny through oral, song-like instructions. Even as developing eggs, parents sing to their children to determine the move set given. Eggs without parents have a default genetic code that is triggered and expressed. Different moves, and thus, different instructions are encoded in different genes. A hundred years ago, humanity embarked upon one of the greatest adventures in gaining knowledge on Pieces, the Piece Genome Project. In this project, scientist attempted to isolate the genes in Pieces that triggered certain instructions for moves, and record the instructions themselves. The project is being continued today, and everyday, more moves are being recorded and manufactured into both discs and USBs. This Icon is one of twenty official Icons. It has the capability of reading both USBs and discs, which otherwise would have to be read by a computer at the Piece Center. Would you like to learn more about moves?”

“Yes.”

“As Pieces grow in level, they also trigger parts of their genetic code, learning the instructions for a move. At the same time, another move, of the Piece’s choice, is triggered to be forgotten. MRI scans of the Piece’s brain, before and after a move has been forgotten, shows images that are similar to the scans of the brains of first-stage human Alzheimer patients. However, there are no confirmed malignant symptoms, as there are with the human Alzheimer disease. The common legend for the unexplainable four-move limit has to do with the ‘legendary Pieces’. In folklore, the original legendary Piece that made the agreement with humanity is said to have put a limit on the move set of captured Pieces so that they would not overpower their human counterparts. Scientists have their own explanations. The most common theory is that the original PENs (made of Apricorns, which emit their own weak electric waves) had electromagnetic waves that only allowed four genes, of the many genes set aside for moves, to be expressed. The current PEN, which uses Apricorn wood, laminated with plastic, is said to copy the electromagnetic waves. However, PALs, which are also made from laminated Apricorn wood but reinforced by human technology, have a stronger form of these waves, which makes them a better choice for C-Keys. It has been observed that wild Pieces that have never been put into a PEN or a PAL can have more than four moves.”

“I’m getting bored here.”

“Quiet, Foxglove. This is interesting.” The screen was back to the three buttons and I pressed the second one.

“This is the Cut USB. Since it is a USB, feel free to use it however many times you want, and share it with your friends. A Piece that learns this move cuts the foe with sharp scythes, claws, etc.” Finally, I pressed the last button. “Please choose the Piece you would like to teach Cut to.” A list of my team popped up and I chose Foxglove. “Foxglove is of the Nincada specie. He is able to learn Cut. Are you sure you want him to learn this move?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. If Foxglove is in a PEN, please discuss which move to forget. If Foxglove is in a PAL, please tell it the move to be forgotten. Click the 'Finished’ button when finished.” I turned to him.

“Which one do you want to forget?”

“Harden. Our culture revolves around attack first. Defense is unnecessary to us." 

I clicked 'Finished’.

"Thank you. Please tell your Piece to think about the move to be forgotten during the program. Do not be alarmed if, in roughly thirty minutes, your Piece suddenly cannot think of the move. This means that the first part of the program has been a success. This program will take about an hour. Is your Piece ready to start?" 

Foxglove nodded.

"Yes.”

“Okay. Please give the Icon to your Piece. He will not be able to use moves during this time, but will be able to function normally beside that. Remember, since moves are learned through hearing, please make sure the Piece is in hearing range of the Icon. Please touch the 'Start’ button when your Piece is holding the Icon.” I gave the Icon to Foxglove and pressed it. “Starting.”

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. 

I strained to listen, hoping to discern a voice, but rustling noises and chirps were all I heard. Occasionally, and very faintly, there were muffled taps and other muted sounds, but that was the extent of the 'song’. After listening to these very non-musical sounds for a minute, I was about to ask if the USB was broken when I caught a glimpse my Nincada’s face. 

“It sounds, familiar,” he whispered, smiling. “Like home.”  He looked serene, calm… Happy. With his teeth, he made the rustling noise and continued to listen. “I can walk while listening. Let’s go.”

***

Torrent, Foxglove, and I walked through Petalburg woods, training my little Mudkip as we approached Route 104. The Nincada continued to listen, and sure enough, thirty minutes into the woods, he looked at me, confused and startled.

“I forgot the name of the move I was supposed to be thinking of.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, brushing some leftover String Shot silk out of Torrent’s hair before he happily tramped into another battle, “Just keep listening.”

When the woods broke and I saw the coast, Foxglove handed the Icon back to me.

“You learned it?”

He nodded.

“I would need a tree to demonstrate, but I fear we’ll have enough of those later." 

"Unfortunately,” I sighed.

“Lexa! I found the house!”

The cottage hadn’t changed from when I had last temporarily inhabited it, writhing on its floor in pain. The scar on my wrist started to ache from the memory.

“Hello? Mr. Briney?”

“Yes? Who is it?” The old, bearded man came hobbling outside. 

“It’s Alexandra, sir." 

"Oh! It’s the kind girl that saved you Peeko!” The Wingull peeked at me from behind him, chirring. “It’s nice to see you again, Alexandra. Would you like some tea? I just made some.”

“Ah, yes, sir.”

“You should let your Pieces out so that they can stretch a little bit.”

“I was just going to do that, sir.” I pressed the PENs on my belt, and the rest of my Pieces materialized. “Do any of you want tea?” Skyra simply bolted into the sky, quickly followed by Peeko; they immediately started to fly after each other. 

“Torrent wants some.”

“Nooooooo! Briaaaaaaar! I want to plaaaaaay!”

“Torrent, you’re going to get dehydrated.”

“I can just drink by using Water Gun.”

“That uses energy, remember? Why do you think Alex’s Icon has our PP for each move listed? It’s because if we use that move after it hits zero, it starts permanently damaging us." 

I stored that information in my brain. 

"If you drink, I’ll play catch with you and Eris." 

Torrent pouted.  

"Okay. But you have to play catch with us!" 

Mr. Briney handed me two cups, and I gave them to Briar.

"Thank you,” he said, looking at me straight in the eyes. I smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

I had been forgiven. 

Mr. Briney handed me another cup and sat down slowly on the porch with his, his joints creaking like a wooden ship at night.

“Now, Alexandra. What can I do for you?”

“I need to get to Dewford, and then Slateport, Mr. Briney. I heard from… three other sources that you had a boat.” Did Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald count as sources? “Could you possibly take us in your boat?” I asked.

“Why, that’s a small favor compared to what you did for me!” He thumped his chest. “I would have sailed to Ever Grande City if you asked for it! A thousand times and back!”

I stifled a chuckle and smiled.

“Wow, you must love Peeko very much.”

“Yes,” he laughed, “I had Peeko ever since she was tiny thing. I had to mash up Oran berries for her, that’s how small she was.”

“Did you catch her in a PAL?”

His expression became horrified.

“I would never… how could you… even suggest…!”

“I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean any harm.” I started to panic slightly. “It just that, I’ve met a lot of PAL users so far–” When I saw that he wasn’t getting any less agitated, I tried to take his mind off the topic. “What PEN did you use to catch her?”

“I did nothing of the sort!" 

The statement shook me out of my panic.

"Wait, what?”

“Peeko is wild.”

“That’s…?”

“We have a mutual desire to stay with each other. I give her food and a warm place, and she gives me company. She enjoys flying with me when I sail to Dewford and Slateport. I cherish the little gifts she brings me, like seashells, bits of sea glass, and the occasional Magikarp.” He sat, looking like the sailor version of Buddha, peacefully listening to Peeko as she flew through the air. “Trainers that use PALs… they don’t understand companionship. The world has changed, Alexandra. Changed into something far more ugly than I thought it would become. The incident two years ago,” he shook his head, “it’s a shame, really.”

“What incident?”

“A boy that used PALs. He must have been pushing his Pieces too hard because, all of a sudden, they turned on him and killed him.”

“Oh, I heard about that. Wasn’t it supposed to be covered up?”

“It was. And I wouldn’t have known about it if it hadn’t happened right in Petalsburg over there. Everything was hushed up and some government officials came and talked to the town all slow and serious. Not to mention they distributed enough money to feed a household for a year. But they overlooked me, since I’m a just a silly old man.” He sighed. “I met with the boy, too, for one day, months before the whole incident. He was so polite and courteous. But I could tell he had a wild streak in him. Warned him about it too, but he laughed it off. He saved Peeko, you know,” he nodded at sky, “just like you did, except he saved her from some wild Pieces. Took him in my boat to Dewford, then Slateport.”

“What did he look like?” I questioned, curious.

“I don’t remember much of him. When you become as old as I am, you start to lose track of people, and they start to blur together. But I remember he had the most distinct eye color. It was almost strange, the colors. But age messes with memories." 

I drew up my knees and put my head in my arms. 

"What if… what if I become a bad trainer like him?” When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I saw an actual person die here. You were there. You saw how I reacted. I still have nightmares. And then… and then I messed up in a battle and almost sent Torrent to his death. I don’t want a friend to die. I am so scared of it happening. I don’t want to see people or Pieces die.”

He glanced at me, and then turned back to his beloved Peeko.

“The world needs more trainers like you, my child.”

The sentence had been simple, but warmth suddenly flooded my body.

“Thanks, Mr. Briney,” I said, smiling into my knees, my voice muffled. “I really needed that.”

***

“I’ll be back in three days.” Mr. Briney started up the engine again, as we stood on the small dock of Dewford. “And then it’s on to Slateport. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for the ride!” He waved, Peeko chirping above his head, and slowly pulled his boat into the ocean. 

“We’re going to have to train.”

“I know, Briar. I think Granite Cave will be our training ground. Steven’s in there, so we can give the letter to him then." 

"How do you know he’s in there?”

“Three sources. Also, I think I’m going to focus mostly on Torrent and Skyra. Torrent’s been out of the game, lately, and Skyra has a type advantage to the gym.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to think things through,” he said, his frown lessening.

“I was worried for a while, after the battle with Brendan,” I replied, letting my Pieces out, “But I’m going to try my best. We WILL beat the Piece Keepers. And I won’t lose any of you." 

He didn’t reply. 

Dewford was nothing more than a couple of houses, a Piece Center, and a Gym. But it was right by the ocean, and beat with the rhythm of the waves. The roofs were all grey, stained by sea salt, complimenting the muted color of the sand. Chimes made from seashells hung from eaves. 

I slowly walked up the beach, letting my heart become quiet, when I eventually found myself beside a fisherman near a rocky part of the coast. 

Fisherwoman, actually. The sturdy figure was clothed in worn, red clothes. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, jammed under a red cap, and her hazel eyes seemed to flicker with the sun on the waves. Laugh lines creased her tan face; she looked serenely over the ocean, holding a fishing pole.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" 

She briefly looked at me.

"Not at all." 

I sat, but jumped to my feet when Torrent immediately plowed out into the ocean and disappeared. 

"Torrent! Where are–”

“Leave him be. He’s a water type. The sea’s his home.”

Slightly worried, I sat down again. 

“Never seen you in these parts before.”

“I’m a C-Key. I’m aiming for the Piece Keepers.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen a C-Key. Two years, I reckon.”

“Two?" 

She nodded.

"Boy with black hair. Light eyes. Carried some mighty powerful Pieces.” Glancing at me again, she continued. “Carried some of that natural charisma that you seem to be hauling around.”

“Me? N-natural charisma? Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s a fact, not a compliment. How else do you think you keep those Pieces is line without a PAL?”

“They aren’t unruly or anything. Most of them are really sweet." 

She snorted.

"The name’s Christie. Yours?”

“Alexandra." 

I leaned back, letting the sound of the tide wash me clean. I couldn’t help it; I loved the ocean. I had loved the ocean ever since I was little. My mom said it was something I got from my father. Looking over the waters, I couldn’t see anything not to love. Suddenly, I narrowed my eyes against the sun’s glare and looked closer into the water.

"Wait a second. Christie, is that a fish?”

“Look like a whiting to me,” the fisherwoman responded, squinting her eyes. 

Thinking about it, I had seen birds. Regular birds, like the kinds that would be in my dimension. Maybe there were more overlaps in the dimension than anyone realized. Maybe the different worlds had grown up together.

“Would you like to try?" 

"Try what? Fishing?”

“Sure. You can catch mackerel here, if you’re lucky, but it’s mostly whiting and Magikarp.” Christie nodded at her pack. “I keep an old rod in there, just in case company comes along. If you want to catch fish, use a hook and sinker. For Pieces, you need to tie something shiny to the end. Pieces love shiny stuff." 

I attached a hook and a sinker to the end of the line, baiting it with tiny minnows that she had.

"My dad taught me how to fish, back when I was very little. He taught my brother, too,” I said.

“Where’s your daddy now?”

“Overseas. I haven’t seen him since I was very little. I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“You can’t get in contact with him?”

“My mom says he can’t use electronics where he’s working. She said I just have to trust that he exists and love me. It’s not hard. I still have the memories of what we did together. Just not the face.” Some thing pulled at my line, hard. “What the–”

Torrent came splashing up, grinning.

“You rascal!” I laughed.

“Aren’t we going to train, Lexa?”

“Oops. I forgot.” Standing up, I collapsed the old rod and offered it to Christie, but she just shook her head.

“Keep it. Got to keep your daddy’s tradition alive, little missy." 

I ran a hand over the worn wood.

"Thanks, Christie." 

She waved vaguely. I look Torrent by the hand and started towards Granite Cave. 

"Okay, Torrent. Let’s go train together, okay? We’re going to make you into a strong, Level 20 Piece." 

"Okay, Lexa!” I whistled with my fingers, the sound loud enough so that it echoed from the rocks. A small dot in the sky grew bigger and bigger, until Skrya swooped down with Briar.

“What were you guys doing?”

“Briar said flying was stupid, so I took him on an adventure.”

“It’s still stupid,” he mumbled, his face tinged green.

“Where’s Eris and Foxglove?”

“Sleeping by the cave, where there’s shade.”

“Briar, want to train Skyra for me?” For the first time, I saw him grin, if not a bit evilly.

“It would be my pleasure.” He grabbed Skyra by her bandana and dragged her into the cave. 

Foxglove woke up when I approached him, Eris sleeping on his lap. When I raised my eyebrow, he scowled.

“She wouldn’t stop whining. I couldn’t refuse her.”

“It happens. We’re going inside to train, okay?”

“Do you want the Flash USB? We helped a man who was stuck between some rocks, and he gave it to us.”

“Nope. Useless move.”

“I thought as much. Eris ate it." 

I sighed and walked into the cave. 

"Oh! Lexi! It’s a new route!”

“You’re right! Let’s go see if another Piece will join us!”

***

“We haven’t run into any Pieces!” I exploded, frustrated. 

“I think something’s scaring them.” Torrent looked around. “There’s somebody here. Somebody powerful.”

“Is it me?”

“Oh, er,” he smiled sheepishly, “You will always be powerful to me.”

He giggled when I pouted.

“Sorry, Lexa. But this person’s really scary.” He clutched my hand and I could see his face was white. “No… not scary… but his presence is really big.” We wandered closer to where Steven’s cave was in the video games, still not running into any Pieces. My head felt buzzy.

“Ow,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. 

“Are you okay, Lexa?”

“I don’t know. My heads been really weird since I got electrified. A lot of headaches and weird sounds.”

“We should go to a people doctor later,” he said, walking ahead of me. When we entered the cave, I looked around, hoping to find Steven so I could give him the letter. But I couldn’t see anyone. The cave was empty. 

Except for a glowing red dot in a shadowy corner of the room. When I walked closer, I found that it belonged to the end of a cigarette, which was in a person’s mouth.

I had found Steven.

He regarded me coolly with bright jade eyes that almost glittered in the dark. His gray hair was messy, and so was his red neckerchief. With his black suit, he melted into the darkness. Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he blew smoke at me. Torrent coughed and moved away, but I stayed, inhaling the familiar scent. It didn’t even sting my eyes anymore.

“That’s not good for you.” His voice was deep.

“My brother used to smoke.” We looked at each other again. I rocked on my heels. “I have a letter for you. From your father.”

“I don’t care for it.”

“Too bad.” I took the letter out of my backpack and handed it to him. Sighing, he eased himself off the ground and took it, tearing it open and reading it. He was much taller than me, almost 6'2" to my 5'2". 

“So, you are Alexandra.” Smoke pooled around his head as he read.

“Did the letter mention me?”

“A bit,” he said nonchalantly, still reading, “but I know you from before. Has your wrist healed?" 

Recognition flooded by brain and Torrent gave a surprised shout.

"You’re the man that saved me!" 

Torrent barreled into him, hugging his legs. 

"You’re the nice man! Thank you! Thank you for saving Lexa!” Torrent bawled. Steven absent-mindedly patted Torrent’s head, looking more and more concerned with the letter’s contents.

“It was no trouble. I was honored to help such a lovely girl.” Finally, he folded the letter and looked up, closing his eyes. Then, he took a lighter, set the letter on fire, and tossed it, picking up Torrent with an arm. “You’re bound to evolve soon, little Mudkip. It’s going to hurt, but it is worth it in the end." 

Torrent patted Steven’s cheek.

"It’s okay! I’m strong! I can take it.” Steven put him down. 

“You’re personality might change, too, but you must be nice to your C-Key.”

“I’m always nice to Lexa. I love her.” The grey haired man gestured for me to come to him.

“Your turn." 

"Ah, no thank you. I’m not allowed to.”

“Oh, please,” quicker than I can react, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me, supporting my legs with one arm so I didn’t have to cling to him. “You’re a little on the light side, aren’t you? Have you been eating? It doesn’t look like–”

“NO!” I screamed and twisted so abruptly that he dropped me. “Don’t touch me!”

He looked down at me, his mouth twitching. 

“And why shouldn’t I touch you?”

“Because you’ll do bad things to me!”

“What kind of bad things,” he asked, leaning closer. I refused to back down.

“Rape me. Kill me. Eat my family.”

“Hm.”

I could see that he was trying not to smile.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“The fact that you have no mental connection to these 'bad things’ you speak about and their meaning. Tell me, what does rape mean? Because if you really knew, you would be running away by now.”

I glared at him.

“It just means a bad thing.”

“Hm,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. He sat back down on the ground. After a moment, I sat next to him.

“Your eyes are interesting,” I stated.

“Is that so?”

“You remind me of my brother’s boyfriend. He talked about him a lot, but I never met him, since they went to boarding school together for a couple of years.”

“Where’s your brother now?”

“He’s dead.”

“Did anybody comfort you?" 

The question was so unexpected that I didn’t know what to say.

"I guess I was comforting my mom most of the time. My dad was still overseas. My brother died two years ago. They said a car hit him. They said he had all these cuts and gashes all over him.” My voice was quiet. “And I think I was more shocked then anything. We had him cremated, and threw the ashes into the ocean. My dad couldn’t come, because his job is really important, but it was fine. He sent his love by letter.” It looked like Steven wasn’t listening, but once in a while, he would shift his eyes towards me. Torrent listened quietly next to me; I had never told him the story before. “I didn’t really believe it until three days later, and by that time, he had already disappeared.” My fingers traced a pattern in the dirt. “I cried later, but it doesn’t really upset me now. I got over it. All I can remember are good memories.”

“Liar.”

“I am not a liar!” I said forcefully, my anger flaring. 

“You are a liar, and you are lying to yourself. You are hurt that he would die and lonely because you don’t have your brother anymore. You try to act strong, and you’ve gotten so good at acting that you believe it yourself.”

“What–" 

"But you are still a little girl, and you need to be hugged more by your parents and I can’t believe they just left you alone.” He said all of this calmly, as if he knew he was right, grinding out his cigarette on the ground. Torrent growled. “Oh, hush.” The Mudkip fell silent, surprised. “Come here.”

“No! You’re a pedophile!”

“You don’t know what that means. And I’m just going to hug you. Come here.”

“You have a knife, and you’re going to stab me in the back.”

“Arceus, Alexandra. You are extremely paranoid.”

I laughed.

“My brother was paranoid, too.” I was pleased with the comparison. “His boyfriend called us both paranoid when I talked to him a couple of times. My brother and I were similar in a lot of ways. Our eyes were exactly the same. That’s why I hate looking in a mirror, because they remind me of him.”

“There you guys are! We can’t find any Pieces. There’s a really powerful C-Key somew–” Skyra stopped, followed by Briar, Eris, and Foxglove. “Found the source!" 

Steven stood up.

"Come here." 

Eris immediately ran forward, clinging to his arms. He picked her up and she nuzzled his face. 

"What a pretty girl! You’re a bit on the quiet side, aren’t you?” Eris, normally shy around strangers, nodded and continued to nuzzle him. “Later, when Alexandra has assembled more than a full team, you should ask to be released, since you don’t like fighting very much.” He looked to Skyra next, but she put her hands on her hips.

“I have daggers and I know how to use them.”

“I will cut off a hand if you touch me,” Foxglove said, cheerfully. 

Briar just glared.

“You’ve broken my heart.” He turned to look at me. “Come on. You look hungry. I’ll treat you to lunch." 

***

"Weren’t you worried that your brother liked a boy?" 

I was stuffing my face with dinner rolls; Torrent was doing the same thing next to me. Steven, on the other hand, ate elegantly, the rings on his long fingers sparkling in the light of the Piece Center’s dining room. 

"No. It’s not like Steven was bad or anything. He was actually really nice.”

“His name was Steven?”

“Yep. That’s why I said you reminded me of him.”

“What did your brother say about him?" 

I put down my roll and laughed.

"My brother isn’t a very expressive person, but he really loved Steven. He talked about how happy he made him, how sweet he was. How wonderful in general. I talked to Steven a couple times online, and he was really nice.”

When Steven didn’t answer, I looked up and found his eyes glazed.

“Steven, are you okay?" 

He shook his head, as if to clear it.

"Sorry, sorry. What happened to Steven?" 

I shrugged.

"I never talked to him afterwards.”

“Do you want that hug now?”

“Pedophile.”

“I paid for lunch.”

“So?" 

His face was in his hands.

"Please?”

“No way,” I said dismissively, cramming a french fry into my mouth.

He didn’t make a sound.

“Steven?” I half rose from my seat. “Steven? Steven, are you okay?" 

He shrugged.

"Just tired,” he replied.

I remember what Brendan had said that night when I had cried, that the holding helps. So tentatively, I got up from my seat and I slid my arms around his neck, hugging him.

“On second thought, I do want a hug.” The gray-haired man held my waist with an arm, still covering most of his face. He smelled like cinnamon and smoke. Soft hair brushed my face. “…Want to sleep together?" 

From a nearby table, Briar and Skyra spit out their drink. Foxglove paused while wiping Eris’s face.

"No wonder your brother was worried for you.”

“How did you know he was worried for me?”

“Offering to sleep in other men’s beds?” He was covering his eyes with one hand, so I could see that he was smiling. “Any brother would be worried.”

“My brother said not to, but…” Briar was still coughing on his drink. “My friend told me… it helps to sleep with someone if you have nightmares. And I’ll stay awake, so I technically won’t be sleeping with you.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant. And I don’t have nightmares.”

“Well I do,” I said stubbornly, knowing something was wrong with him, “So sleep with me." 

Briar choked again.

Steven finally removed the hand from his eyes and when he smiled, his turquoise eyes didn’t meet mine.

"If you insist,” the heir of Devon Corporation conceded. “But you have to go train and I need to find some rocks.”

We left the Piece Center and traveled up the beach towards the entrance of the cave. By now, the sun was high in the sky, and I was eager to get into the dark coolness of the cave.

“Steven, you have to stay out here. You keep all the Pieces away.”

“I know. Give me Eris and Foxglove. I’ll look after them. They can help me look for stones out here.” The little Poochyena ran to him, reluctantly followed by the Nincada.

“Briar–”

“Yeah, yeah, I got Skyra.” They went in first and I followed them, but lost sight of them when I turned the corner. 

“Okay, Torrent. We’re going to find another–”

“Look, Lexa! I found an Aron!” Torrent was stretching the cheeks of a pale girl who had on a metal helmet on with holes down the sides. Two pigtails dropped neatly down her back. Flexible metal plated the back of her hands, forearms, and shins, and she carried a small, metal, disc-shaped shield on one arm. Her black shorts and shirt were dusty. Courageous, rich, blue eyes stared back at me. “She’s not even struggling. I think she wants to come with us.”

“Aron,” GLaDOS butted in, “the Iron Armor Piece. A Piece that is clad in steel armor. A new suit of armor is made when it evolves. The old, discarded armor is salvaged as metal for making metal products.”

“That’s fine with me.” I approached her and tapped a button of a PEN against her head. She disappeared into the ball; the PEN didn’t even rock, but clicked immediately. 

“I want to come with you!” the Aron exclaimed in her high, excited voice when she materialized out of the PEN. “I want adventure! This cave is always so boring and there’s nothing to do. The last trainer came two years ago, and I didn’t even get to fight him! I’m brave and strong and hardy!” I was a slightly taken aback by her eagerness, but I didn’t mind.

“Sure! I’ll be glad to have a spirited Piece on the team! What’s your name?”

“Orphan Number Forty.” Before I could ask, she launched into an explanation. “Two years ago, the last trainer lost a little control over his Piece. The Piece caved in part of the ceiling, and we lost a lot of the parents. Things like this happen, so don’t feel bad. I’m okay. But I don’t want that name.”

“How about Cobalt?” Torrent piped in.

“I like it!” She readjusted the helmet on her head. She bounced on her heels and hugged Torrent. “So do I start training now?”

“Later, Cobalt. I have to train Torrent right now because we’re going to verse a gym soon. I want you to go outside, and you’ll find a man named Steven. Go hang out with him a little bit.”

“Yes, ma’am!” She saluted and marched out of the entrance of the cave. 

“I like her!” Torrent said, “And she’s tough, just like me.”

I ruffled his hair.

“Just like you, Torrent.”

We went deeper and deeper into the cave, training Torrent until his moves were stronger and his reflexes sharper. At first, light filtered in through cracks in the ceiling but it eventually got dark enough to pull out my iPhone and light the way. However, it wasn’t a powerful light, and I could only see in a small circle in front of me. Torrent took tight hold of my hand so that I wouldn’t fall, since his hearing and eyesight were better.

“Lexa, we should go back now.”

“Good idea. I really can’t see anything. We’ll train in the light.” So, we turned, traced our steps. I could see the vague outline of Torrent’s face again when he let go of my hand and darted off to the right. I heard a Screech and a dark figure jumping back from Torrent’s Water Gun. There was a Scratch and he rolled, immediately getting back up to Tackle the figure. With one last scream, it dissolved into stars, which whirled into his necklace, briefly lighting up his face.

“Torrent leveled up,” GLaDOS pinged. “Evolution is imminent.”

“Hey! Did you hear that? You’re going to ev—”

Torrent screamed until all the Zubats in the cave screamed along with him. Behind him, parts of the ceiling crashed into the floor, sending a wave of dust rolling into my nose and eyes.

“IT HURTS! LEXA! SAVE ME! IT HURTS! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!" 

"TORRENT?!” I stumbled forward, coughing, wiping my watering eyes, until I was kneeling on the ground next to him. “Torrent! Hold on! I’m going to get you out!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME! IT HURTS! AHHHHHHHH! STOP IT!” I heard bones cracking, rearranging themselves in his body. In the dim light, I could see his skin twisting and folding, and his clothes melted into steaming water. 

His back arched in an impossible angle, then he fell back, silent. Slowly, his necklace stopped spinning. 

It exploded in a blinding flash of gold light that illuminated every corner of the cave. For one second, I could see every detail before me, the location of every ledge, crevice, and boulder. 

After that dazzling light, we were swallowed by darkness so intense, I felt as if my breathing was smothered. The ceiling no longer let in light through its chinks, and thick dust filled the air.

“Torrent?! Are you there?!” Stormy-grey eyes look back at me from the ground.

“What do you think?”

“Torrent?”

“The one and only.” The eyes moved away from the ground. “Arceus, I feel good.” A set of hands scooped me up and put me on my feet. “Grab the back of my shirt. Don’t hold my hand.”

“Someone hit puberty,” I muttered, grabbing the soft fabric of his shirt. “Can you see?”

“Crystal clear.” I heard a metallic click. “Let’s see if I can get us out of here.” There was a sound of a gunshot, and a chunk of light poured through. Now that I wasn’t wallowing in the darkness, I could see the wall of collapsed rocks in front of us.

“Alexandra?! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, Steven. I’m fine. Did Briar and Skyra get out? And Cobalt?”

“Yes, they’re all here!”

“Shut up and move back,” Torrent growled.

Torrent held something up and shot a powerful blast of mud at the wall. Another part of the wall tore loose. 

It was a gun. Shining metallic in the sunlight, it reloaded itself one more time, and he shot the wall again, breaking a path through the debris. His fingers touched something on both guns before he swept away the leftover pieces of rock in front of us with a double jet of water. 

“Okay, let go of my jacket.” As soon as I did, he strode forward and put on orange, hexagonal headphones. His clothes had changed from a simple shirt and shorts to an orange v-neck, an ocean-blue jacket, and dark blue jeans. He also had on burnt-orange shin and forearm protectors.

“Oh good, he evolved,” Steven said when I picked my way through the bits of rock towards him.

“Steven?”

“Yes?”

“That was the first time I’ve ever heard Torrent say something hurt." 

Steven’s head tilted.

"Don’t you know? Starter Piece species aren’t just randomly picked. They’re chosen because they have some kind of disability so that starter C-Keys won’t be overwhelmed by their power. It’s always been this way. Torrent probably couldn’t feel pain. Many can’t speak–” I immediately thought about Aspen, “–or hear, or see. The list goes on.”

“What about Torrent now? As a Marshtomp?”

“You should ask him yourself.”

“Steven?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Immediately, I was pulled to his front. Steven put his chin on my head and I smelled cinnamon and cigarette smoke again.

“Was it scary?”

“Yeah.” I turned around and buried my head into his shoulder. He had to bend down to reach me. “I was really scared. And your hair is really soft.”

“So is yours.” I felt him run his hand through the ends.

“Steven, can you carry me to the Piece center? I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Of course.” He lifted me up like he did before, supporting my legs so that I used almost no strength keeping myself up. 

“No, I’ll do that,” Torrent cut in. He looked like he was my age now, and was taller than me, though shorter than Steven. “Put her down.”

Steven’s emerald eyes were amused. He gently placed me on the ground and Torrent crouched so that he could carry me on his back. 

“Aren’t I heavy?” I asked, when he had straightened up.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied curtly, starting forward.

“Sheesh. This is coming from the person who didn’t want to hold my hand earlier.”

“Because I was holding guns. I’ll hold your hand if you want. I could conquer the world with one hand, as long as you held the other." 

"I’m writing that one down,” Steven murmured, grinning. 

“You’re still saying cute things even though you went through puberty.” I was blushing. 

“My heart stayed the same. It will always stay the same.”


	9. Cinnamon Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seventh grade me needs to actually be in a relationship

To Steven, the curtains fluttering in the early morning wind looked like figures. Half-ghosts with hands stretched out towards him, trying to say something. Trying to take back something. The rising sun dyed the sheer material so it was streaked with red. Quietly, he shut the window, and the curtains ceased to move. 

 

 _“It’s not possible_ ,” she had said yesterday, “ _the names are different. My Ash and your Red are two separate people, Steven_." 

” _I know_ ,“ he had said gently.

” _Ash couldn’t have known you_.“

” _I know, Alexandra. I never said they were the same people_.“

” _We live in another dimension!_ “

” _Alexandra, my boyfriend was very short. Ash was tall, right?_ “ 

She had nodded. 

” _See? Two different people. So calm down_.“

He took off his rings, one by one, and his bracelets and chains. As he placed them gently on the dresser next to the bed, he watched Alexandra’s rib cage move slowly, evenly, through her tank top. 

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, and Steven started to count her ribs again. Her elbows and knees were knobby. Dark circles ringed her eyes; she was malnourished. She was so worried and tired, that she wasn’t eating, and it was showing on her body. 

He went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Fog filled the small room, concealing the mirror, which was good. He hated looking at himself, anyway. 

She had woken up screaming. Had woken up holding her stomach, keeping in the imaginary organs. 

” _Ash! Ash, where are you? Save me! Ash, please save me!_ “ Torrent had stayed asleep between them. Steven had quickly crossed to the other side. When he had pulled her to him, she had shuddered and stopped, quickly falling asleep again. He had held that small body to his own, rocking and murmuring melodies. 

"Nobody comforted you,” he whispered into the hissing water. “Then again, nobody comforted me either.”

After his shower, he pulled on his boxers and grey jeans, towel-drying his hair. When he found Alexandra still sleeping, he stepped outside onto the balcony, where Torrent was standing.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Torrent adjusted his headphones so that one ear was uncovered. “Thanks for getting her to sleep again yesterday. You could have woken me up, though.”

“It was no trouble,” Steven said, continuing to dry his hair, “My heart hurts when she cries out for Ash.”

“Ash, huh? Not Red?” Torrent leaned on the rail, silent, fiddling with his headphone cord. “You really believe it’s not the same person?" 

"I don’t think so.” From the clothesline behind him, Steven slid on a slim, black button-down and tightened a belt through his jeans. He started to put on his grey skinny tie. He knew he looked much younger like this, without his formal suit.

“Liar.”

“Why would I be lying?”

“For one reason or another. I don’t care.”

Steven turned to Torrent, putting the tips of his fingers on Torrent’s cheek. The Marshtomp grimaced, but didn’t move. 

“What are you thinking right now? That the C-Key that was killed by his Pieces was her brother? That I was her brother’s boyfriend?" 

Torrent stayed silent.

"I wouldn’t blame you if you were. You’re leading towards this conclusion because it’s logical.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that just because it’s logical, doesn’t mean it’s true.” Steven looked inside the window, making sure Alexandra wasn’t listening. “If she really believes that I was her brother’s boyfriend, that means she has to believe that her brother was killed by what she still views as Pokémon. She has to accept that Pieces just like her own brutally murdered her brother. She has to accept that her parents lied to her about one of the people she loved the most. Most of all, she has to accept that her parents and grandfather willingly sent her back into this world, just to experiment when her own brother had died here.”

“How do you know about Pokémon? How do you know her grandfather?”

“I was the previous Champion for the Piece Keepers. I am told things.”

“And you don’t want her to–?”

“–suffer anymore,” Steven cut in. “I barely know her. Who am I to cause her pain?”

“Right.” Torrent stared at him, his brain debating whether to believe, or not to believe.

“I have a picture of my boyfriend if you want.” Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Alexandra said her brother had black hair and her eyes. My boyfriend had brown hair and brown eyes. This was taken before he went insane." 

Torrent studied the picture. Then, his eyes slowly looked up until his gaze was boring into Steven’s eyes.

"Strange,” Torrent drawled, “I wonder why you would have a picture of Stephan as your boyfriend, since you two are brothers?”

Steven’s eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“How do you know Stephan?” Steven rasped. 

“I would change the picture if I were you.” Torrent slid his headphones back on just as the alarm on Steven’s phone rang, signaling that it was ten in the morning. “Go wake her up." 

Steven stood for several minutes, wanting to continue the conversation before reluctantly stepping inside, leaving the Marshtomp on the balcony.

"Alexandra, wake up." 

She immediately stumbled out of bed and was halfway across the room to the shower before Steven said anything. 

"Someone’s a morning person.” While the shower ran, he made her bed, smoothing and tucking the sheets in fast, mechanical motions. Behind him, Torrent slung an arm around Briar.

“Let’s go get breakfast. I’m hungry, kid." 

Briar’s eye twitched.

"Let’s not forget all the times I helped you when you were a whiny Mudkup, shall we? Kid." 

Nevertheless, he took Eris’s hand, and let himself be dragged to the kitchen. The other Pieces were already playing outside. 

Alexandra stumbled out of the bathroom, dressed in a worn shirt and shorts, her hair flying wildly around her. When she saw her own bed was made, she scowled at Steven and jumped into the bed her Pieces had shared, curling into the feathery blankets. 

"Your hair.”

“What about my hair?” she snapped.

“It looks like birds can nest in it." 

She hid her face in the pillow, but it couldn’t hide her blush, which flushed her ears.

"It’s always like this in the morning. It calms down by the afternoon.”

“Why don’t you brush it?”

Her ears seemed to turn even redder.

“I’m not used to brushing my own hair,” she said, talking into the pillow, “My brother always did it." 

Steven crossed the room to his bag and pulled out a comb.

"Let me brush it. Come sit on my lap.”

“Pedophile.”

“First of all, I am not a pedophile. Second of all, you are legal, and I’m sure there are actual pedophiles out there who are disappointed in that.”

“You promise you won’t do anything weird?”

“I promise. Come here.” Alex inched her way over, scowling, and eventually climbed on his lap. He started to comb out the tangles, carefully, making sure he didn’t yank or pull.

“What are these?” she leaned forward slightly and plucked one ring off the dresser.

“They’re mine.” Alexandra looked at it carefully. The ring had been carved from a dark turquoise stone, and it seemed like it shifted its dusky colors. There were circles embedded into the stone, overlapping each other.

“Where did you get all of these?" 

"Just over the years. You can look at them if you want. Just put them back on my fingers later.”

“Where does this one go?” Steven held out the pointer finger on his right hand, and she slid the ring on it. She picked up the next one, a silver loop that had a maze twisted into it, and started to examine it. He brushed out the rest of the tangles in her hair until it was a soft waterfall of silk. With agile fingers, he braided her hair into a fishtail.

“Pass the hair tie in front of you?" 

She reached over and handed him the black hair tie. Tying it, he hung it over her shoulder and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. 

"There you go." 

She hopped off his lap and went to the mirror. 

"It’s pretty. Thanks you, Steven.” Quickly, she returned to his lap, much to his amusement. “Tell me where the rest go.” He put the maze ring on his right ring finger. A gold one in the shape of claws returned to his left pinky. And a black ring with six sides and dots in the pattern of a die went on his left ring finger. “Why do you have one on your ring finger?” she asked, while he put a sea-foam colored, gemstone bracelet on his wrist. “Are you married?”

“No, but it keeps the girls and guys away, because they ask if I’m single.”

“Girls  _and_  guys?”

“Bisexual, but I prefer girls, though all the girls that flock to me seem to be air-headed.” Steven sighed when he saw the three chains he had yet to put on. “This always takes such a long time.”

“I’ll do it.” She turned around on his lap so that she was facing him.

Or straddling him.

While she took a chain and hooked it neatly behind him, he didn’t move from his position, not wanting to be accused for something he didn’t mean. But she wasn’t paying attention to anything besides hooking the chains. 

“There. Done.” Steven leaned back on his hands while she patted his pockets and pulled out a rectangular container.

“Are these your cigarettes?” She popped the top of it open. A cinnamon smell filled the room, curving around their heads. 

“Cinnamon sticks.” He took one and bit into it, making a crackling sound. “Would you like one?” When she nodded, picked one up with his fingers. “Open your mouth.” Without complaint, she opened it. 

He eyed her cautiously. 

Mouth slightly open. Curled up on his lap. Big, innocent eyes. 

“You definitely don’t know what a pedophile is, do you?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” It was too much for him. He placed the cinnamon stick in her mouth and stood up, dropping her on the ground. But she didn’t seem to mind or notice. She stood up, chewing, and grabbed her C-Key clothes, heading to the bathroom to change. He collapsed in a chair, sighing.

“Steven, I’m going to go to the Gym now.”

“Good luck.”

“Want to come and watch?”

“It’s not allowed.”

“Oh.” Her fingers drummed the door and she puffed air in one cheek. “What are you doing today?”

“Reading about rocks.”

“And then after?" 

Steven chuckled.

"Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come back." 

Alexandra looked relieved. 

"Oh. Oh, okay. Good.”

***

When she closed the door, darkness consumed her, darkness as deep and as complete as dreams. She groped backward into the doorway and opened it again. A sliver of light fell from the crack, but could do little to penetrate the blackness.  The crash of waves echoed in the building and Alexandra could feel salty spray on her lips.

“There’s water in front of us,” Torrent said. “They must have drawn the ocean here. The waves correspond to the ones on the beach.”

“You’re a beach,” Skyra retorted and flew up, disappearing. A moment later, she returned. “The ceiling isn’t high. We’re just going to have to take the waves. Torrent, give me a piggyback ride. You can - somewhat - control the waves and I don’t want to get my wings wet.”

“No. Beach.” He laughed when Skyra smacked his butt with a wing. 

“I’m going to leave the rest of the PENs here so they don’t break in the water,” Alexandra stated, taking off her jacket and her shoes. “I wish I had brought shorts or something. How deep is it?" 

There was a splash.

"Three feet deep. Let’s go, Skyra. I can’t carry both of you so Lexa, grab my shirt. And there’s a ledge, so be careful.”

Moving blindly in the dark and unable to use her cellphone, Alexandra grabbed the back of Torrent’s shirt for the second time and timidly lowered herself into the water. Her feet touched soft sand and her black sweatpants immediately became waterlogged. Waves crashed into her, pushing and pulling her, soaking her shirt until she was shivering.

“Let’s go,” she chattered, spitting out salt water. When Skyra perched on Torrent’s shoulders, he started to move forward, managing to push aside most of the waves with his innate abilities. 

Most. 

While Skyra was high enough to keep her wings dry, Alexandra felt waves up to her neck and one even closed over her head. 

“Skyra.” She coughed, ejecting salt water from her lungs. “Just Peck anything that moves. Torrent, don’t stop moving. Find the Leader.” Occasionally, the Taillow would dart out into the darkness, finding the target of another C-Key’s Piece in the gloom, but for the most part, they both stayed near Torrent, who easily navigated through the waves. “How are you even finding your way through this?” Another wave closed over her head and left her gasping for air, eyes stinging.

“I can feel the waves and currents when they bounce off the walls. They return softer. It’s like sonar. But stop talking. You’re actually drowning.” Finally, they waded up a slope, the water receding until it was around their ankles. 

“Where’s the L–” Her own violent coughing interrupted mid-sentence. 

“Let’s do this fast and get out of here, before she gets pneumonia,” Skyra muttered to Torrent while Alexandra coughed. “Where’s the Leader?”

“Here.” A dim light from the ceiling illuminated the room. Skyra’s and Torrent’s pupils immediately constricted to tiny dots, letting them see in the sudden burst of light, but to Alexandra, after twenty minutes in the dark, it was blinding. 

“Ow! That hurts!”

“You must train your body, challenger. Your Pieces may be strong, but if your body is weak, you will merely be holding them back." 

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking painfully as the combination of salt and light made tears run down her face. In front of her was a beefy man with blue hair and no shirt. He was sitting under a pounding waterfall, but his voice was deep enough to cut through the sound. "My name is Caradoc. I am Dewford’s Gym Leader. I’ve been churned in the rough waves of these parts, and I’ve grown tough in the pitch-black cave. So, you wanted to challenge me? Let me see what you’re made of!” With a snap of a muscled arm, he threw a PAL to the center of the room, releasing a boy that was only wearing blue shorts. His hair was buzzed, except for three lines that ran from the front of his head to the back. 

Alexandra could almost imagine GLaDOS spewing information on the Machop.

“Skyra,” said the exhausted trainer weakly, “just Peck them all.” She fell back in the water, breathing shallowly. The Taillow struck, wheeling neatly away while Torrent supported Alexandra. The Machop went down without a fight. Caradoc quickly withdrew the Piece and sent out the next one, a boy with white hair in a fohawk, a blue shirt and shorts, and white bands on his wrists and ankles; a Meditite. In the same swinging circle, Skyra Pecked the Meditite on the chest, slamming him to the floor. 

“Hurry up, Skyra. Her lips are turning blue.” Caradoc sent out his last Piece, another boy, with his golden hair tied on top of his head. His shirt and shorts matched the yellow of his hair, and he was wearing black boxing gloves and a black chain. Skyra, losing control because of her wet wings, missed the Makuhita by inches. In a moment, the Makuhita tensed up his muscles and raised his arms, preparing to attack and defend himself from an attack with a Bulk Up. Regaining her balance, she swung around and Pecked him. He simply responded by tensing again. In a final loop, Skyra rammed, almost invisibly, into the Makuhita.

In the same second she made contact, the Makuhita grabbed her by the wings and hurled her into a wall. There was a sickening crunch of bones and the Taillow slid to the ground, golden blood marking her path down the wall. Caradoc’s last Piece didn’t even get a chance to breathe before it was crushed to the wall opposite of Skyra with a jet of mud. Torrent strode over to Skyra, picking her up gently.

“Alive,” he murmured to himself, “She’s alive.”

“Well done, challenger. Take this Knuckle sticker – it’s water proof – and this Bulk Up Disc.”

Torrent snatched the items from Caradoc’s hands, but he wasn’t listening. His mind was working furiously. Both his trainer and his teammate were in bad condition, and he couldn’t take more than one of them on his back. He could float the other one behind him, but it was very likely that they would drown. If he constantly checked on the one who would float, they would take forever to get out of the gym and that meant delaying treatment for both of them. 

Caradoc sat impassively under the waterfall, not caring what happened to the challenger or her Pieces. 

“Give Alexandra to me." 

Torrent whirled around to face Steven and a Piece that looked about Steven’s age. 

The Metagross had short, metallic blue hair, and a blue surgical mask that had a white X mark on it. He was wearing a long, high-collared, sleeveless navy jacket that was buckled in different placed by turquoise belts. His dark blue pants were spotless, due to the purple aura that surrounded him and Steven. Metals plated his forearms and his shins, dark colors swirling within their depths. The red lights glowing from his eyes reflected distortedly in the water that was frozen in place around them. 

"Ex-Champion Steven. Have you come to help the challenger back on her feet?”

“I’ve come to rescue her before she’s killed, Caradoc. Don’t let this happen again.” The gym leader inclined his head slightly, and went back to meditating under his waterfall. “Torrent, get Skyra. Stavros is going to stop the water with his Psychic. Do your best to help.” Quickly, he scooped up Alexandra, wrapping her with his coat. “Follow, Torrent." 

He didn’t argue. 

They went through the maze, stepping on wet sand as water danced and flurried around them, held back by the same purple aura that was outlining Stavros. Torrent kept the waves from splashing behind them, and in ten minutes, they stepped outside the gym. 

"Get Skyra to the Piece Center. Right now. I’m right behind you.” Both of them started running to the Piece Center, the Metagross helping Torrent with Skyra’s wings, when Steven noticed something.

Alexandra wasn’t breathing. 

He immediately placed her on the ground, putting his ear to her mouth. Nothing. He shut her nose with his hands and sealed his mouth against hers. One breath. Her chest rose and fell, lips tinged blue. Another. It was almost grotesque, the motion of a lifeless chest. One more. She coughed and Steven turned her head to the side as she vomited seawater. 

“Shh… it’s okay,” Steven whispered as she started crying. He picked her up again and walked towards the Piece Center. “I’ve got you. You did a good job, Alexandra. You won. Shh…” The doors of the Piece Center opened and two nurses with a stretcher waited for them. “You’ll be fixed up before you know it. Don’t cry.” He placed her on the stretcher.

The medical staff wheeled her away. 


	10. Confessions, Regressions, My Heart is in Sections

_…color is blue… Alex! …should stay close to me, right? I love you… computer and watching… is forbidden, remember? …bad things out there. My boyfriend… nice… you would like him! Here’s his picture… lose it! Haha! Pretty… my beautiful sister… don’t talk to boys… interesting adventure, here in boarding school… everybody likes… play Pokémon… if they were real? Imagine! …would try to catch all of them and… gym badges… collect all of them, something happens… why would you need…?_

 

“Alexandra?" 

I shifted through the layers of sleep and dreams until I was floating near the top. 

"Alexandra, are you awake?" 

It was hard to open my eyes, and I was aware of the effort it took for each breath. 

Please open. Breathe. Stop hurting. Keep it simple. 

I was in a gym.

No, too fast. Too fast.

My name is Alexandra Oak. 

Okay. Okay.

There are Pieces here.

My teammates are Torrent, Skyra, Briar, Eris, Foxglove, and Cobalt.

Brendan is Professor Birch’s son.

Steven is the adopted son of President Stone.

Okay, now. I was in a gym. There was water, and it was hard to breathe. Skyra was fighting, when—

My eyes jerked open.

"Skyra!” Steven came into view. “Steven, where’s Skyra?!”

“Skyra’s fine.”

“She’s alive?!”

“She’s alive." 

I collapsed backwards into the pillow, not remembering when I had sat up. A white hospital room stared back at me with all its accessories, including an IV in my arm and Steven. He wasn’t part of the hospital, but had the hospital visitor look. 

Quiet. Sympathetic.

I hated it. 

He removed himself from my vision.

"Nurse, she’s awake.” Another extension of the hospital walked in: a nurse with pink hair. ‘Dewford Piece Center’ was embroidered over her pocket, along with her name, 'Joanne’. She bustled around, checking my heartbeat and blood pressure and a number of other useless things. Without a word, she took my clipboard and walked out, leaving Steven in my vision again.

“Steven,” I said, “sit down and remove that expression from your face.”

“What expression?” He perched himself on the side of my bed, like dainty crane. 

“Pity.”

“It’s not pity. Don’t you watch hospital shows? It’s never pity.”

“What?”

“Hospital shows. I visited your world a couple of times, for Champion duties. The TV dramas were one of the best parts. House and Grey’s Anatomy is a couple.”

“I don’t know. My brother wouldn’t let me watch TV." 

"At all? What about the computer?”

“At all. I also wasn’t allowed on the computer. He said there was inappropriate stuff on the Internet, so he wouldn’t let me on it.” My head ached. I wished he would stop talking.

“What about homework?”

“I was pulled up into my brother’s classes, even though he was three years ahead of me, seventeen, when I was fourteen. He helped me study, so it wasn’t too hard. But if we required the Internet for homework, he would just do the assignment for me and give it to me. I didn’t mind; it was less work. And if I needed to type up something, he disconnected the Internet in the entire house.”

“So you’ve never been on the Internet?”

“Later. After he died, I had to do assignments. But just for assignments.”

“What about friends? Did you have friends?”

“I didn’t have friends. My brother said all the girls hated me and that all the boys wanted to do bad things to me.” I shrugged. “It didn’t matter. My brother protected me from them. We had a lot of fun together. I learned what sex and rape and pedophilia were from my brother, because he told me to stay away from things like that.”

Steven rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. He held it, and then released it slowly, closing his eyes.

I tugged the covers over my head and turned on my side, my back to Steven. 

“Arceus, you’re like a little kid." 

I didn’t bother to respond. My head hurt too much to make sense of what he was saying.

"So, you don’t have any qualms of being in a room with a twenty-three year old man?”

“I do. Because that’s pedophilia.”

“And what do you think I might do?”

“Force me to have sex.”

“So why aren’t you worried now?”

“You haven’t forced me to have sex." 

"And what do you think forced is?”

“If it hurts.”

There was a pause.

“Alexandra,” he asked hesitantly, “why didn’t you have friends?”

“I told you. They didn’t like me. That’s why my brother always stayed by me. Boys tried to approach me in the beginning, but eventually, they got scared of my brother and stopped. They would have just hurt my feelings anyway.”

Another stillness. 

“Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“Who saved me?”

I felt him move and sit back down in the plastic chair, dragging it closer to me. 

“I did.”

“So you did mouth-to-mouth?” When I looked over my shoulder, he was staring at me with a pleased expression on his face, his chin propped on his fist. 

“I did. Does that bother you?”

I buried my face into the blanket just as I felt all the blood rush to my face. I tried my best to hide my ears, but I must have been a second too late, because Steven grabbed my wrist and turned me around. 

“Why are you embarrassed?”

I didn’t answer.

“It wasn’t a kiss. Don’t think of it as one.”

“No, well, um.” I felt my face get even redder. “Well, that was the first time anyone beside family did that. It’s fine! Um, I-I don’t know.”

He blinked, surprised, then his eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, no good. That face is too cute,” he said, lounging back into his seat, legs crossed.

Quickly, I covered my head with the sheet. 

There was a pause and cool fingers ran through my hair. I thought they would stop immediately, but they continued, gently working out the knots and tangles. Occasionally, they rubbed behind a ear and brushed my neck. 

I plunged into my dreams again. 

***

_…Torchic… Don’t let him touch you… No, we couldn’t have… you… ignore me forever. So you remember… your first death… You’ll see much more… for now… Did I ask? GET OUT! …GET BACK HERE! I AM THE TRAINER! LISTEN TO ME!_

It was the rocking that woke me up. Wood creaked against wood, while waves pushed the hull of the boat.

“What were you dreaming about?” Rich blue eyes bobbed under a helmet in the dark. I reached for her, and she climbed onto my cot, avoiding Eris, who was curled up in a ball. 

“I think it was something important… but I can’t seem to remember…” I cleared my throat, wincing when it sent an arrow of pain into my lungs. “Something said a long time ago. Where am I?”

“In Mr. Briney’s boat. Steven carried you in here. He also gave you a Steel Wing Disc and put his number into your phone. He said to call as soon as you woke up,” Cobalt gave a mischievous grin, “but maybe you should wait for him to call you first.”

“I’ll call him first.”

“Not the best way to flirt with that guy." 

I looked up from my phone, which had been in my pocket, and back at her, confused. 

"What do you mean flirt?”

“Well, you were on his lap, so I figured…”

“Was that flirting?” I shrugged and looked down at my phone again, checking the contacts section. She smacked a palm to her face.

“Friend-zoned. Oh, Arceus, Steven. Your hotness has been friend-zoned and you don’t even know it.”

“Okay, look. I’m a normal girl in all aspects, except the romantic aspect. And the social-hierarchy construct aspect.”

“Which is half of being a girl.”

“Ah, fuck you.”

“Wish I could. I’m pretty enough.”

“Wish you could what?”

Another hand to her face.

“You know what? Never mind. What about Brendan?”

“What about Brendan?”

“It is unbelievably frustrating to talk to you. Why do you flirt with him?”

“I’m not flirting! I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Then why did he kiss you on the forehead?”

“Who’s telling you all these things? And I don’t know! I thought that was normal. My brother did that all the time.”

“But I doubt your brother pulled you on his lap or slept in the same room as you.”

“What? Of course he did.” By this time, all my Pieces were awake.

“What?”

“He did do those things. He was really affectionate. That’s why I don’t understand when you say I’m flirting!”

“And you,” Torrent spoke disbelievingly, “let him do these things?”

“Let him? You’re making it sound like it was something terrible.”

He shook his head slowly, his headphones around his neck. 

“There’s something screwed up with you.”

“Torrent, that’s–” Briar warned. 

“There’s something screwed up with your family.”

“That’s really mean! Don't—”

“And your brother was a fucking  _mental case_ ,” he hissed. 

My fist swung automatically and would have smashed into his nose if he hadn’t dodged. When I stood up, he backed away.

“My brother took care of me.” My voice was quiet. “When my dad went to work overseas, my brother was the one who made sure I ate and slept and did my homework. He was the one that got me my books to read and he was my only friend. He was the only one that didn’t hate me. Even when my mom tried to scold me, he was the one that stood up for me. He never lost a fight with her. I miss him and I love him and I wish he weren’t dead, but he is. And I will not stand here and let you call him a mental case, understand?”

“He kept you inside, you brain-dead idiot,” Torrent spat back. “He locked you inside his cage and twisted you until you weren’t normal. If he asked you to jump off a building, you would have gladly done so, and you would have done flips and cartwheels on the way down! He harassed you. I don’t know if it was up to a sexual point, but he did things brothers should never do! He controlled you like a marionette! You were like those Pieces trapped in PALs! And he made it seem like it was normal! You didn’t have friends! You just had him! Doesn’t that seem weird to you?!”

“Just because–!” My words caught in my throat. “Well–!”

“Well, what?! What reasons can you possibly have for this?! Enlighten me!”

I couldn’t respond.

Because, even when I was younger, it had been weird. Especially watching the girls in my class plan birthday parties and go to sleepovers. In the beginning, when they would ask me to join, my brother would respond for me. Tell them I couldn’t go for one reason or another. Eventually, I started saying no, knowing that my brother would have done so, and even more eventually, they just stopped asking. It was the same with the boys in my class. They would ask me for my cellphone number, but I shared a cellphone with my brother, so I told them I couldn’t give them the number. Some asked for my email, but before I could give it to them, my brother would interrupt me. Later, at home, he would hug me close and tell me that the boys only wanted my email so they could take advantage of me. The next day, the boys would come to class with terrified expressions on their faces. 

People stopped approaching me. They just stopped. I always thought it had to do with the expression on my brother’s pale, calm face. He was always smiling, but it never reached his eyes unless he looked at me.  _Incest_ , people whispered, but I didn’t believe them. Yeah, my brother touched so much it made me uncomfortable sometimes, but he always stopped when I asked him. 

And he always apologized. 

The phone started to vibrate in my hands, signaling a text, and we broke eye contact. Torrent put on his headphones and went onto the deck, his back stiff from frustration. Briar muttered something to Skyra and went after him.

Brendan: Hey, it’s Brendan.

Cobalt rearranged herself so that she was looking over my shoulder, as limp as a scarf.

Alex: Hey.

Brendan: Are you doing okay? You haven’t texted or called at all :(

Alex: I’ve been busy. I almost died at the Dewford Gym.

Brendan: What?! Are you okay?!

Alex: I’m fine ^^;; Swallowed seawater, but that’s it

“Tell him he’s cute,” Cobalt said. I chose to ignore her.

Brendan: Are you going to Route 110 any time soon?

Alex: Probably, why?

Brendan: I’m on my way there. :P Let’s catch up, yeah?

Alex: Yay!

“Alexandra! We’re near Slateport now!” Mr. Briney’s voice floated down the stairs. “Come up!”

“Coming, sir!” I slung my bag over my shoulders and slipped my phone in my pocket. Bright light shone in my eyes as I climbed the stairs onto the deck. 

Miles and miles of cyan water filled my vision, swaying like a living entity. I could see schools of actual fish moving to avoid the larger, faster form of the blurred Pieces that lived in the ocean. Directly in front of the boat stretched a beach as white as those in the Caribbean. Looking carefully, I could see that the docking site was more of a small peninsula than anything. Slowly, the boat pulled to the wooden boardwalk and Peeko, who had been flying above us, landed on the beach with a thump. There was a blur next to me as Skyra rocketed after her. 

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Briney!”

“No problem. You come see me if you need me, you hear?”

“Yes, sir. Skyra! Let’s go!”

People were tanning on the beach and playing in the vibrant water. Shouts of laughter and squeals rose into a sky that was a deeper blue than the ocean. I saw Pieces, set apart by their empty stare, accompanying children on their adventures while carrying supplies. My stomach didn’t convulse in horror anymore.

But just because I wasn’t nauseated didn’t mean I was any less disgusted. 

Instead of entering the city right away, I decided to rest for a little while on the beach. The pitch-blackness of the Dewford gym seemed so removed from this place. Nevertheless, I had no desire to swim or even approach the water at all. 

“Alexandra, we’re going to that building over there. There’s a commotion. Watch Eris, okay?” My phone vibrated when I nodded. I pulled it out of my pocket and smoothed Eris’s hair when she curled up next to me. 

Steven: I told you to call me when you woke up. Are you okay? You had a bit of a fever when I put you on the boat.

Alex: I’m fine. I’m just outside of Slateport now. And I forgot to thank you for saving me, so thank you.  

Steven: It was an honor. And ah, it’s pretty, isn’t it?

Alex: Spectacular.

Steven: (´Д’ )

Alex: What?

Steven: You seem angry. Annoyed? Flipping a table angry (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Alex: ┬──┬◡ﾉ(° -°ﾉ) Don’t throw tables. 

Steven: Haha. You know, you can talk to me if you want to.

A bottle of soda landed in front of me, and Torrent kneeled. He reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I didn’t mean to say those things,” he said.

“I know you didn’t.”

He stroked my cheek with his rough thumb for a minute. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Briar kicked Torrent hard in the ribs.

“And I’m sorry,” he gasped. I looked up and smiled at Torrent, squinting my eyes against the sun.

“It’s okay. I know you were just worried.”

Alex: I’ll keep that in mind, Steven. Thank you. 

Steven: (^_^;;) (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

“Where did you even get these sodas?” I asked, offering it to Eris, who bit the cap off with a quick snap. She then proceeded to bite off the cap of her own soda. 

“The building we went to was a battle house or something. Skyra, Foxglove, Torrent, and I won all the battles and the owner of the building got scared. So he gave us seven sodas and told us to scram.”

“It was fun. Their flying types are weak.” Skyra offered one of her rare smiles. Her white teeth flashed against her olive skin. “I feel strong.”

“Is it a good feeling?”

“Yeah. It’s good.” She hurtled into the sky again, tracing patterns that only she understood in the dazzling sky. The sand stopped at a flight of stairs as we walked towards Slateport, and was replaced by paved roads, shimmering in the heat waves that rose from the ground. To my right was a lone lighthouse, so white that it looked like an extension of the sand. On my left was a crowded outdoor market, bursting with stalls, performers, people, and Pieces. The noise was confusing and loud, and the bustle reminded me of New York City. 

My Pieces reactions were interesting. Torrent stood aloof, but I could see him taking peeks at the movement. Briar’s frown became deeper the longer he looked, and so did Foxglove’s. Cobalt looked exuberant, ready to take on any challenge. But Eris’s eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped.

“SHINY THINGS!” she squealed and dived into the crowd, making Foxglove shout and chase her. We all lunged after her, except Skyra, who was still wheeling in the sky, but we were no match for her small frame and quick feet. It seemed like she was everywhere at once, nosing into soft scarves, pawing through fruit, wrapping herself in sticky taffy. All of a sudden, Skyra dove in from the air, plucking her from the middle of a basin of copper nuggets. As soon as the Taillow set her down, Briar pried open her hands, and shiny jewels and berries tumbled out. I thought that was all she had, but the Shroomish, ever doubtful, swung her up by her feet, held her upside down, and shook her. Coins spilled out of her, along with wooden carvings and other trinkets.

Tediously, we returned the items to their owners, apologizing in a cyclone of curses and shouts. 

“You know, Alexandra, this might look good on you.” Cobalt held up a light-blue messenger bag. “It’s light, and the strap has a place to put the PENs. There are individual pockets for different stuff.” She rifled through it. “It has disc slots for TMs and USB pockets. There’s even a berry pocket.”

“What’s wrong with my backpack?”

“It’s old. And black. And doesn’t match your eye color.”

“And it’s going to be hot for a long time, at least until Route 118 or Route 119 or something like that, according to the map.” Skyra handed the map to Briar and turned around, searching the clothing racks. “So this might be good.” It was a pair of simple peach-colored shorts. 

Briar reached past her, his frown lessening, and pulled out a yellow sundress. 

“This, too. It matches the rings in your eyes." 

Cobalt dragged me to a dressing room, snatching the clothes out of their hands, not listening to my complaints. She shoved me into an empty stall, and blocked the door so that I couldn’t come out. 

"Cobalt!” I slammed my head against the door, “If you don’t let me out right now, I’m going to give myself a concussion.”

“There’s a Piece Center nearby.”

“I’ll die and I won’t be there to level you up so you can evolve.”

“Oh, well. I can live with this form.”

“Drama will never progress between me and anyone.”

“Alex, drama will never progress at this rate anyway.”

“Damnit,” I grumbled, “thought I got you with that one.” Sighing loudly and dramatically, I peeled off my dirty sweatpants and ragged shirt. Quickly, I changed so that I could leave the close confines of the stall. 

Cobalt whistled when I stepped out.

“It definitely suits you." 

I felt myself redden and pulled at the hem of my dress.

"Isn’t this a little too short?”

“It just makes you look so freaking cute. And you have shorts under so you’re fine.”

“Can I please change out n–”

I heard a click and looked up just in time to see Cobalt send the picture she had taken of me.

“Wait! Who are you sending that to?!" 

"The only people on your contact list except President Creep.” The phone dinged twice. “That was fast.” She handed the phone over to me. There was a picture of me, just as I suspected, looking uncomfortable.

Brendan: Lol, you jacked her phone? Well, tell her it’s looks okay. (And by okay, I mean, holy mother of Arceus)

Steven: Give her back her phone, Cobalt (；´Д｀) But give her a hug for me ヽ(´∀｀)ノ

“You’re staying in your PEN next time,” I grumbled, stuffing the phone into my pocket and following the signs to the Shipyard.

***

It was sweltering inside the Shipyard. The hot screeching of metal on metal filled the air, making Eris cover her sensitive ears. The beginnings of a hull of a boat showed through an opening to the right, next to the dismantled remains of a rusty dingy. A single man with a blowtorch swayed from a pulley system from the rafters, mechanically welding bolts together. 

Cobalt took a deep, happy breath.

“Smells like metal.”

“It’s iron.” We all jumped, whirling around to face the voice behind us, except Torrent, who was leaning against a wall with his eyes closed. The speaker was a broad man with heavy arms and shoulders. His thick handlebar mustache made up for the thinning brown hair on top of his head. “We have eighteen tons of iron stacked in this place, for what?!” the man mumbled, elbowing past Skyra, “For nothing! Too heavy… lighter, more flexible…”

“Excuse me, sir. Are you Captain Giman?”

“Steel… no good. What? Oh. No. I’m Dock. Captain’s at the Museum. Anything I can do for you?”

“I have the Devon Goods.”

“Captain handles all the Devon stuff.” He sat in front of an empty desk, his brow crinkled with thought. “Need something lighter… wind is harsh…”

“Are you building a boat, sir?" 

There was the smallest flicker of a pause.

"Yes.” He waved me away with a hand.

Eris scampered out the door first. Briar tapped Torrent on the shoulder and yawning, clicked the button of his PEN on my shoulder strap, disappearing in red light. Torrent sighed and pushed himself off the wall. 

More and more clusters of whispering people appeared the closer we got to the Museum.

“Everything…” I heard.

“Yang is here.” The murmurs blended into the voice of the sea.

“Death has come.”

There was a note or quality to their voices. I couldn’t pinpoint the emotion exactly, but it certainly wasn’t panic or hate. Reverence? Only the police officers took any action, calling in for reinforcements. 

Pale, limestone walls connected to form the outer court of an old mansion. A sign secured at the gate informed pedestrians that this was, indeed, the Oceanic Museum and not a home. 

“Dirty pirates,” I muttered when I walked through the front doors after paying the admission fee into the machine. There were five of them in total, all dressed in striped shirts and baggy pants with blue bandanas over their heads. “Hey!” All five of them turned to look at me.

“Hey, kiddo!” said a grunt with long brown hair. The rest of them turned back to examining the cases. “Are you looking for someone?”

“…Captain Giman…” I replied, slightly unnerved by her bubbly personality.

“Do you have something to give to him?”

“Yes…” She held out her hand and pouted.

“Do you think you could give it to big sister?" 

”…No.“

"Aw, all right then.” She pointed to the stairs. “He’s right up those stairs. Give him the package and come right back down, okay? Or you might see something you don’t want to.” I didn’t answer, but bolted to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Halfway up, I pressed Briar’s PEN, unleashing him.

“Get ready for a battle.”

“I’m always ready.”

We ran into the room, alert, scanning for a threat. Instead, a man in a lab coat with short black hair and narrow eyes greeted us.

“Oh. Hello.” He looked startled.

“Are… you… Captain Giman?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. I cursed myself silently for being so out of shape.

“Yes. Would you happen to have a package for me?” Briar rummaged in my bag and gave the small, circular Devon Goods to Captain Giman while I tried to control my breathing. “Excellent! Now I can start assembling the pieces together.”

“Are you making a boat? Dock said you needed lighter material, or something.”

“Why, yes!” His eyes became slits when he smiled, accentuating his thin, pale face. “And thanks to you, we can finally build it. Of course, if Dock never figures out which metal to use…” He gave a light laugh.

“How can such a small item be so important on a boat?”

“Oh, it goes right at the top. It’s very crucial, actually. Thank you so much for bringing it. You must be a good friend of President Stone if you brought it for him." 

"Not really. I know his sons, though, if that counts for anything.”

“Both his sons. Very interesting.” His pale red eyes glittered. “What’s your name again?”

“Alexandra.”

“Ah, I see.” A giggling sound fluttered from the back of his throat. He took a curious glance at Briar, walking around him with a snake-like grace. “What a wonderful specimen of a Piece you have. What’s his name?”

“This specimen happens to talk,” Briar commented, drily, “and would like if you could ask him directly.” Captain Giman stopped walking and frowned.

“You mean to say that you have been traveling with a Piece that was caught with a PEN?”

“Six, actually.”

“How incredibly dangerous!" 

Just then, two Team Aqua grunts burst into the room; one was the woman I had been talking to before.

"Hey, kiddo! You should leave the room now. We have to talk to the Captain.”

“Oh, dear. It looks like you’re trying to steal the Devon Goods from me. I’m frightened.” He certainly didn’t look frightened. In one swift motion, he moved behind me. “You’ll take care of these terrorists for me, right?”

“Stop manipulating kids, Giman and hand over the Goods." 

I sighed.

"Leave him alone, guys.”

“Whatever! Let’s just fight!” The grunt who spoke seemed to be slightly younger than me.

“Gavin, you know we’re not supposed to use our Pieces unless we’re in danger.”

“Whatever! Cutter and I can take these fools!” His arm whipped forward and in the next second, a small boy crouched on the ground. His spiky blond hair matched the yellow diamond pattern on the back of his dark blue shirt. He had on red shorts and deep orange eyes. His fierce expression was offset by his young, chubby face.

“Gavin! Don–”

“Cutter! Water Gun!” But Briar was too fast and strong for him, not to mention he had a type advantage. He drew back his slingshot and Cutter collapsed, gold blood pooling on the floor. I stood, waiting for Gavin to curse and bring back his Carvahna, but he just stood there. Quinn gasped. “Cutter?” Gavin kneeled by Cutter’s still form. “Cutter? Wake up, buddy!” Footsteps sounded in the stairwell. “Cutter! Wake up!

"I hope both of–” the man that had appeared in the doorway stood still, his eyes on Gavin, who was shaking the Carvahna’s shoulder. “Quinn, what happened?” he asked quietly.

There was silence in the room. Then, the man walked over to the ball where Cutter had been held.

It was a PEN.

“Here.” He gave it to Gavin, who smacked it out of the man’s hand. Weeping silently, Gavin lifted Cutter’s broken body in his arms. “I think you understand why we don’t use our Pieces recklessly.” With his unbearable burden, Gavin stood up and ran out of the room, Quinn close on his heels. 

Light blue eyes with gold rings locked with mine. The man had tanned skin, which made his eyes jump out. His broad shoulders were shifted in a sailor’s stance, and curly black hair stood out from underneath his blue bandana. The blue shirt he was wearing was tousled, tucked into his black slacks.

“My name is Archie. What’s your name?”

“Alexandra." 

He took a deep breath and released it, rubbing a hand over his light beard. His eyes never left mine.

"How… how are you doing?”

“Pretty well until you guys showed up.”

“…I see.”

“Please leave Captain Giman alone.”

“It’s not a good for a kid to play in the grown-up world.”

“I know, but unfortunately, I’m being forced to by your idiotic plan to flood the world." 

Archie chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

"Feisty. Good.” He cleared his throat and his expression became stern. “But the water runs deeper than you can hear.” Finally, he looked at Captain Giman, his expression cold. “She has protected you this time, Giman. But you know the cost.” Captain Giman simply waved goodbye, a sly smile plastered on his face. Archie turned to walk out the door, but stopped, his hand on the doorframe. “Alexandra, it’s not a good idea to get involved with this. Finish your experiment, and then get out.”

“Wait a second!" 

He was already gone. 

"Hey!” I leapt down the stairs, Briar following me, until I reached the first landing. “Archie! Wait!” There were nobody to be seen. 

“Hey, kid!” I turned to meet a chubby man in a Hawaiian print shirt and white shorts. “I think I’ve seen you before!” His glasses were so dark, that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“No, sir, I’m sure we haven’t met.” I looked around again, looking for any sign of Archie. “But sir, I really have to g–”

“Yeah I did! I saw you at Petalsburg.” He also pulled out his phone and tapped my phone gently with it. “There! You have my contact information. Now I’m off to find more strong trainers! I’ll be keeping an eye on you!” With a grin, he shambled off, keeping his sunglasses on. I looked at my phone.

Scott’s smiling headshot looked back at me, still in sunglasses. 


	11. Murdered

“If you’re that worried about Scott, just block him,” Torrent said, bored of the conversation.

 

“But I don’t even know how to block people.”

“You should ask Brendan later." 

Slateport steadily disappeared behind us as we walked towards Mauville. Skyra was walking for once, talking quietly with Briar. Foxglove was irritably warning Eris and Cobalt to keep up with us, making sure they didn’t dart off the road like they had before. Everything seemed fine, but underneath the surface was a heavy, thick tension. Each one of us was avoiding the topic that we should have been speaking about.

The Carvanha had responded to a name. I should have read the signs. I should have known. But I had not known and I had killed a Piece. 

I had killed a Piece.

I had killed someone’s friend.

Did the fact that it was an act of self-defense justify my actions? Was it ‘okay’ to kill that Piece, purely because it was one of the 'Enemy’s’? 

And that’s what we were all avoiding. 

"Speaking of Brendan, aren’t you supposed to meet him on Route 110?”

“Yeah. What of it?” Torrent pointed at a decrepit sign that said 'Route 110’ in faded font. 

“Guess what that means?”

“Brendan?”

“No. Well, yes. But, no. It means a new team member. Which means Eris can go back home." 

The Poochyena perked up at the mention of her name.

"Home?” She trotted over to Torrent and clutched his blue shirt. “Home? Home?”

“Home, kiddo,” said Torrent, while Cobalt hugged the Poochyena.

“I’m going to miss you, Eris!” Cobalt smiled, squeezing her, “But I’m glad you’re going home!”

“What if,” Eris said, her voice muffled by Cobalt’s arm, “the next Piece doesn’t want to come?”

“Aww, it’s not like you to be pessimistic,” Cobalt answered cheerfully. “We’ve had a couple of Pieces refuse us before, but mostly, adventure is fun! Look at me! I wanted to come right away!” At this, Eris barked and grinned, her tail wagging underneath her shorts.

Another bark answered her own. We all froze straining to catch the noise, but everything was silent. Eris barked again. Almost immediately, the bark answered back, coming from a stand of tall grass of the side of the road. The air took on a charged feel the closer we got. 

“It’s moving away,” Torrent whispered. “Briar.” The Shroomish nodded and melted into the grass, moving through it without a sound. A minute passed. Two minutes.

“Got you!” There were the sounds of a small scuffle and a yelp. The grass around one spot thrashed wildly. A red light shot up from the area and finally, everything was still. “It’s an Electrike.” Briar emerged from the grass, unharmed except one arm dangling limply by his side.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing. It just shocked me. It doesn’t hurt. I just can’t move it.”

“Not at all?”

“I can wiggle my fingers a little but that’s pretty much–” Torrent, his mouth curved up in an evil grin, swung back his fist and punched Briar on the paralyzed arm. Profanity flooded from the injured boys mouth, but did nothing to dampen the grin on Torrent’s face. 

“Son of a bitch!”

“That’s going to bruise later,” Torrent responded with a touch of his old innocence. Then, he walked over to the PEN and pushed the button.

“Electrike, the Lightning Piece,” GLaDOS chimed, “It generates electricity using friction from the atmosphere. In seasons with especially arid air, its entire body blazes with violent showers of sparks.”

In front of us stood a shaking girl who looked about 8 years old. Her green hair matched the color of her shirt and shorts. There were bright yellow streaks in her hair, the same bright yellow that was in her running shoes, and the nails on her hands were painted an electrifying yellow. 

“Hey,” I said, getting on one knee and making my voice as gentle as possible, “there’s no need to be scared.” The Piece didn’t stop trembling. Instead, she started to inch away.

“P-please let me go." 

"You don’t want to come on an adventure with us?”

“No!” I stood up.

“Well, that’s fine." 

Eris’s tail stopped wagging and her shoulders drooped. 

"It’s okay, Eris. I’m sure the next route will be better. You just have to wait." 

She nodded quietly. Cobalt looked at her silent form and stepped forward.

"Hey, you!” Cobalt burst out. The Electrike jumped.

“M-me?”

“Why don’t you want to come?” Cobalt put her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with determination.

“I-I-I need to pr-protect someone…”

“Can’t you protect them better if you’re stronger?”

“B-but I’m not strong…”

“Then I’ll make you strong!” The Aron thumped her own chest. “I’ll make you so strong, that you’ll have no trouble protecting that someone. You just have to come with us!”

“B-but…”

“You’re coming with us!”

“O-okay.” She whirled to Eris, a satisfied grin on her face.

“There. Now you can go home." 

Eris turned to me.

"Right?”

“Cobalt, you forced someone to join. I don’t think she really w–”

“The Electrike will be fine. I’ll make sure of it. But Eris can go back to her home, right?”

“Yes, but you should respect–”

“You heard her, Eris! Time to go home!”

“Home?” Eris repeated, her tail wagging once again and her eyes sparkling hopefully. 

How could I say no to that? Torrent and Briar both ruffled her hair separately and when they stopped, she launched herself at Foxglove. 

“Thank you. Thank you for the cares you gave.”

“Cares you gave?” But Foxglove hugged her back. “Say hello to your friends for me.”

“Kay!”

“I’ll fly her back,” Skyra offered. I unclipped Eris’s PEN from my strap and beckoned the Poochyena over.

“Be good, okay? And… I don’t know. How do you say goodbye?" 

Eris threw back her head and howled, long and loud. It sounded so excited and sad at the same time.

"I’m sure we’ll meet again,” she yipped, flashing a smile. She nuzzled into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. Then, she let go and tapped the button of her PEN, disappearing in a shower of red light. Skyra caught the PEN and spiraled into the air, sliding her bandana over her mouth.

“I’ll be back in 24 hours! Do something productive!” And with that, she glided into the sharp blue sky. 

“Well, first of all,” I said, when I couldn’t see Skyra anymore, “What’s your name?”

“L-Lana…” the Electrike whispered.

“How come you’re so quiet?” Cobalt said, patting Lana’s back. The poor Electrike flinched.

“How come you’re so noisy?” Briar drawled. Cobalt pouted.

“You’re just cranky because Skyra’s not here." 

Torrent yanked his earphones off.

” _Reaaaaalllllyyyyyy?_ “ Torrent’s voice shot up an octave.

Briar gave Cobalt a dirty look. 

"What a  _fascinating_  development!”

“Stop that. You’re creeping me out." 

Torrent hooked his chin over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

"Sooooo… do you  _like_  her?”

“I have a type advantage against you, you know.”

“Was it  _love_  at first siiiiight?”

“I will  _kill_  you.”

“Does she make you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside?”

“Arceus, someone save me from this idiot.” Cobalt turned to Lana while Briar was distracted. 

“Okay, Lana! We’re going to get you leveled up!”

“Actually, Cobalt. That’s my job.”

“I can do it!” she insisted. 

“Cobalt.”

“I can’t do it!" 

"I’m not joking. Stop–”

“I CAN DO IT!” she whirled on me, “I GREW UP BY MYSELF. I EARNED FOOD BY MYSELF. I TRAINED BY MYSELF. LANA IS MY RESPONSIBILITY. STOP MAKING ME DEPEND ON YOU. I CAN DO IT.”

Silence.

“Oops. I guess I lost my temper there.” Cobalt laughed, and I could see all the way to her molars. “Sorry. Let’s go, Lana!” She clamped her fingers around Lana’s wrist and dragged her into the tall grass. 

***

“How was training?” I asked when Cobalt emerged from the tall grass, closely followed by Lana.

“Great!” she responded, brushing dirt off her clothes. “Right, Lana?" 

The Electrike nodded. She looked much more relaxed than she had this afternoon.

"That’s good. But Cobalt, you shouldn’t train Lana.”

“You let Briar train us!”

“Because he isn’t reckless. And he knows when he needs help. You just want to do everything by yourself." 

She made a dissatisfied noise and sat down, not saying anything more. 

"Lana, could you help me start a fire?” Briar asked quietly, gesturing at the pile of firewood arranged neatly on the bare ground. Lana nodded and struck her fingernails together in a sliding motion, much like striking a match. Electricity sparked in her hands, crackling like foil, and she threw a handful at the wood, which burst into flames. 

Brendan: You awake?

Alex: I was just about to sleep.

Brendan: Sorry. 

Alex: It’s fine. Are you on Route 110?

Brendan: Yeah, but on the Mauville end.

Alex: Then we should meet tomorrow.

Brendan: Cool!

“Foxglove, we’re going to train together tomorrow, okay?”

“Hn,” he responded and clicked the button on his PEN. Cobalt clicked hers right after he did.

“Do you mind if I stay outside?” Lana said, averting her eyes from my face.

“I don’t mind, Lana. Briar and Torrent like to stay outside, too. Foxglove and Cobalt just like dark spaces. That’s why they go inside." 

Lana sat next to me, staring into the sky. I was just about to ask what was on her mind when Torrent spoke.

"You don’t have Skyra to snuggle up with tonight, Snookums.”

“I will implant seeds in your eyes.”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to seed." 

Briar growled in disgust at the bad pun and turned away.

"Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad. And it was the only thing I could think of." 

Briar closed his eyes, in all appearances, asleep. Torrent snickered and readjusted his headphones.

"What kind of music do you even listen to?" 

Torrent didn’t respond. 

"Torrent.” I raised my voice. “Torrent!” Briar’s arm whipped across Torrent’s leg.

“She’s talking to you, idiot.” The Marshtomp’s eyes shot open and he took off one ear of his headphones.

“What?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Oh. You don’t know?” Torrent walked forward, removing his headphones and placing them on my ears. Silence washed over me. 

“There’s nothing playing." 

Torrent spoke, but I couldn’t hear him. I took the headphones off. 

"What did you say?”

“I’m deaf.”

“You? Really?”

“Yep. Marshtomps are usually deaf. The headphones are for show.”

“Then you read lips?”

“Yeah, I’m good at that.” Torrent took the headphones back and placed them on his head. It was quiet, but at least I could hear the crackling of the flame and the steady breathing of Briar. “It isn’t that bad, Lexa. Don’t make that face.”

“I heard from Steven, and then I forgot for awhile. All the starter Pieces have handicaps, right?”

“Yeah. But I had it better than most. Usually, Mudkips and Treekos and Torchics can’t talk, like Aspen. I just couldn’t feel pain, which, in my opinion, wasn’t a handicap at all.”

“But they say if you’re spared when you’re young, you develop a much harsher disability when you evolve,” Briar cut in, “You’re not afraid of that?”

“Harsher, not harsher. Afraid, not afraid. Who cares? If it happens, it will happen.”

“You’re so irritating, do you know that?" 

Torrent looked up at Briar and smiled serenely.

"I know, buttercup…,” he whispered, grinning as if he had divulged the secrets of the world. 

“I-I think you’re a nice trainer,” Lana stammered to me, twisting her hands on her lap.

“Yeah?" 

She nodded, turning red.

"You c-care, so-o… it’s g-good.”

“Lana, you really don’t have to join this team if you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t, in the b-beginning.”

“But now?”

“I-I need to get stronger.” Her voice grew slightly louder. “C-cobalt is strong. I want-t to be strong like her. And… c-confident.”

“Why?”

“I have two brothers at home.” The expression on her face softened. “I l-love them very much. I traveled to Route 110 to get stronger, so I could protect them. But I didn’t have much luck until Cobalt c-came. So, I am very grateful.” She stood up, gave an awkward bow, and sat down again. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t you have parents?”

“It has always been my brothers and me for as long as I can remember.”

“When you get strong enough, I’ll buy two presents for your brothers. So when you go home, you can make them happy. Would that be okay?” She smiled back, shyly at first, then more broadly. 

“Y-Yes! Thank you very much!”

***

The first light of dawn was what woke me up. The last remnants of the fire glowed as embers on the ground. Torrent was snuggled in Briar’s arms, much like he used to when he was a Mudkip. Lana was nowhere to be seen.

“Lana?" 

Briar stirred and opened his eyes, untangling himself from Torrent.

"I thought he was a little kid again." 

Torrent continued to sleep.

"Lana?” I checked my PEN strap. Only Foxglove’s PEN was bright and warm. The rest were dull and cold. “I think Cobalt took her to train,” I sighed. “They won’t be back until later, then. She really has to stop doing that.” I pressed Foxglove’s button and deposited him on the ground. “Time to train, Foxglove.” He yawned cutely and stretched, shaking himself and smiling.

“Why did you wake me up so early, Master,” he said bitterly, standing up, the smile wiped off his face.

“I hate it when you do that. I have no idea when you’re going to do it, too.”

He stood sullenly. 

“Well, off to the tall grass with you. Come on, Briar. Leave Torrent to sleep a little more.” As soon as we stepped into the tall grass, Foxglove got to work, making the field glow with the golden lights. 

Foxglove was scary and bipolar, but if anything, he was also efficient. Within three hours, he had caught up in level with the rest of the Pieces. 

“Okay, Foxglove. Let’s r–”

“Foxglove leveled up. Evolution is imminent.”

“What?! Already?!” I flinched, waiting for a scream, but Foxglove just grit his teeth, clearly unwilling to make any noise. He started to glow until he was just light and through my squinted eyes, I saw something strange.

Instead of staying as one Piece, he tore into two, and two Pieces twisted and changed separately.

“Briar, is that normal?”

“For his specie? Yeah. Don’t worry. It’s almost over.” There was an overwhelming burst of white light, and everything dimmed again. Two figures stood in the place of Foxglove. 

One of them, dressed in what would be considered a traditional ninja outfit, had a black mask and yellow hair. His eyes glowed red and two transparent wings stood out from his back, red triangles on the edges. He bowed to me.

“Foxglove, Master.” He said shortly. He looked older than me, but was built smaller than Torrent. Sharp, almost invisible blades were attached from his wrist to elbow. When my eyes flickered to the other Piece, I almost yelped. 

The Piece vaguely looked like a girl with her short brown hair, but I wasn’t sure because she looked like she had been, well, shed. She was a transparent dull brown all over, and I could see the other side of her, as well as what was behind her, and parts of her were cracked. Flimsy wings decorated her back, as well as a hole the size of my hand. Instead of eyes, she had black sockets that seemed to suck the light out of the air.

“Hiya, Alex!” she said with a voice that sounded like dry leaves rubbing against each other, “My name is Avira.” At least her smile was friendly.

“You’re a… Shedinja?" 

She giggled at my confusion.

"Yes! Are you surprised by my appearance?”

“No, no. That’s fine. I got used to weird stuff ever since I came here. It’s just that, I was aware that you can’t have more than six Pieces with you at one time, or all your PENs and PALs shatter.”

“No, that’s right. All the balls are linked to your trainer card by your thumbprint,” Briar responded. “Shedinjas are the alter personality of Nincadas. That’s why it seemed like Foxglove was bipolar. Two personalities were occupying his head. The serious one is Foxglove and the happy one is Avira.”

“I get that, but how is Avira here?”

“She has her own PEN, see?” He tapped on one of the PENs on my strap, “Some of her energy transferred while she was evolving.”

“You’re not answering the question. Avira can only be made if I have an extra slot in my party, right?”

“Yes. If there isn’t, the Ninjask continues to have a double personality.”

“Right, so we have a full party. So how is Avira here?”

Briar’s mouth opened and he was about to say something when his jaw slackened and his eyes focused on something behind me.

“What?” I asked, turning around. 

In the distance, Cobalt walked slowly back to us.

Lana was in her arms.

“She’s just asleep. I’ll get the potions ready.”

“Alexandra.”

“She really tried to get strong, huh? She must love her brothers like crazy.”

“Alexandra!”

“She’s not dead.”

“Alexandra!” Briar spat, “You are not stupid!" 

"JUST LET ME HOPE!” I screamed. “I KNOW WHY AVIRA JOINED OUR TEAM! I KNOW! BUT LET ME DELUDE MYSELF FOR A MINUTE! JUST ONE MINUTE!” my voice broke in a sob, “Okay? When my brother died, I couldn’t even pretend. So let me pretend this time. Please. Just until they get here. Let me convince myself that she’s asleep.” There was pity in Briar’s eyes. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “Please.”

“I’ll go get the potions.” He walked back to the campsite. 

Foxglove, Avira, and I watched quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Cobalt gently put Lana by my feet. Her eyes were dull and red-rimmed from crying. “I’m sorry.” I choked back my tears.

“What happened?”

“I thought she was fine. I asked her and she said she was fine. I guess she lied. She got hit with an electric attack.” A small smile floated on Lana’s pale face. Her hair was soaked with gold and singed at the ends. One of her running shoes were missing. Foxglove picked her up gently and started back towards camp with her. “I’m sorry.” A small part of me told me to comfort her. The rational part.

The small part.

Torrent bolted upright when he saw us.

“What the–?” He saw Lana’s body. “Well, shit.”

“Please, can I bury her by myself?” She flinched at the look on Briar’s face. “I-I know she died because I wanted to do everything myself. But just this. Please.”

“Let her,” I said, and picked up my backpack. Foxglove turned to look at me sharply, but didn’t say anything. “We’re going to Brendan. Catch up to us when you’re done.” Foxglove, Avira, and Briar returned to their separate PENs. Torrent, glancing quickly at me, took off his headphones and put it on my ears. This time, instead of silence, the comfortable sound of the ocean filled my thoughts so I didn’t have to think. I let Torrent take my hand in his cool one.

When I looked back, I saw Cobalt digging slowly and grimly with her shield, Lana’s tiny body beside her. She had barely made a dent in the ground.

***

I didn’t wake up, but rather, slid into consciousness. My body and my arms were warm, but my legs were cold.

“Brendan?”

“Hey.” He walked with a rocking motion, so it was hard to keep my eyes open.

“Why am I on your back?”

“Well, I started walking in your direction because it was late and I was worried, and I saw Torrent carrying you. I called out your name but you didn’t respond, even when I tapped you on your shoulder. So, I had Torrent put you on my shoulders and here you are.”

“Did Cobalt catch up?”

“Yeah. She’s in her PEN.”

“Okay.”

“You have a pretty weak body, you know?”

“I damaged my heart a couple years ago.”

“How did you damage it?”

“I didn’t sleep for a week one time, so all the muscles in my body got damaged. And I was born with a weak heart, so it’s hard to do physical stuff sometimes.”

“I see.”

My life was composed of silences.

“I heard what happened with Lana.”

“What, Torrent told you again?”

“Torrent’s very different from the cute little boy that told me before." 

The Marshtomp snorted to my left.

"How are you taking it?”

“I’m okay.”

“Huh. Want to sleep together again?”

“No.”

“I see." 

My chest felt hot. We walked into camp, and I slid off his back onto the ground. 

"Go ahead,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead and cry.”

“I don’t need to cry.”

“Then what are those sparkly things glimmering in your eyes already? You lost a friend. You have every right to cry." 

"I’m not going to–” Pain ripped through my chest, and I felt hot tears slide down my cheeks. “–cry,” I choked out. 

“Right.” Brendan brushed a finger over all my PENs, and my Pieces came tumbling out. I couldn’t stop wailing, but I felt Skyra’s arms wrap around me. Her feathery wings brushed my face and arched over me, and Cobalt hugged my other side. 

“S-she wanted to go-o back to her family!” I hiccuped. I realized Cobalt was crying too when a wet stain grew on my shoulder. Shaking from both her sobs and mine, I hugged her back tightly.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for any of it to happen! I’m sorry!”


	12. Exodus 21:24

Long after Cobalt had fallen asleep, after she and the others had gone back into their PENs, after the night had gripped the woods in its clutches, I lay awake in my sleeping bag, crying and trying to stifle my sobs. Brendan stirred uneasily, then sat up.

 

“Alex?" 

I turned away from him, not wanting to talk. 

"Alex, what’s wrong? Do you want some peanut butter?”

“No." 

"Is it Lana?”

“It’s not just Lana.”

“Is it the Carvanha?”

“His name was Cutter.”

“Alex, you can talk to me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Why not?”

“Quit it, Brendan!" 

I heard him move his sleeping bag towards mine. An arm looped around my waist and with a huff, he dropped his head and went back to sleep.

Beside me, Torrent was sleeping with his arm under his head, facing me. One hand was extended towards me, as it always was when he slept, whatever his position. I put my hands in his, almost engulfed by the tanned fingers. He was instantly awake. 

He half-rose, his eyes darting to Brendan, and when he quirked an eyebrow, I merely tightened my fingers. The corner of his lips rose in a smile, his face relaxing. 

"Things happen,” he whispered, crawling into my sleeping bag, carefully removing Brendan’s arm. He lifted my head and put his arm under so that I was nestled against his chest. He smelled like an estuary, the connection between freshwater and the ocean, a balance. “Things will always happen. What happened to Cutter wasn’t our fault. And what happened to Lana wasn’t our fault, either, not even Cobalt’s fault.”

I listened to his heart beat for some time. 

“I feel so weak, Torrent. In the games, you’re always the hero, no matter what. You don’t have to work for it. You always save the day. But here… I’m useless. I’ve grown complacent.”

“I don’t think you’re useless, Lexa." 

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

"But aren’t I? I am! It started with the day I screwed up in the battle with Brendan. After that, I just… didn’t trust myself to make decisions anymore. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Now, I feel all lukewarm.”

“Mm,” Torrent hummed. “I trust you to find a way. For now, go to sleep." 

With his free hand, he patted slow circles into my back. I could hear the sound of the ocean coming from his headphones.

"How old are you Torrent?”

“In human years? Seventeen. In Piece years, I’m twenty. Go to sleep Lexa, I’ll be here.”

“That’s what Brendan said.”

“Hm? It is. But Brendan hasn’t quite grown up yet.”

I yawned, and Torrent let out a contented sound. 

“Torrent, I’m scared.”

He opened his eyes, and they were as grey as the sky before rain fell. 

“I know.”

And I knew he did.

***

When I woke up, Brendan was gone. 

To my right, I heard Briar’s shouts and the clash of Foxglove’s blades against some unfortunate Piece’s throat. Up above, Skyra wheeled lazily, a pinpoint in an otherwise clear sky. Torrent was curled up next to me, sleeping soundly as the sun glinted off his headphones. 

“Brendan left his jacket for you, but you looked hot, so I took it off. He also left the USB for the Item Finder. He said sorry for leaving early, but he had to conduct an experiment." 

I turned my head to the sound of Cobalt’s voice. She pointed at a jacket and a USB next to me and then hurled her shield into the side of a tree, making it dig into the bark. She stretched out her hand and it flew back to her fingers. Again and again, she threw her shield until finally, with a groan, the tree fell. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and repositioned herself in front of a new tree. 

"Is it okay to chop down all those trees?”

“Briar fixes them.” Her voice was dead. It was unnatural, the way her mouth moved while she spoke, but the rest of her face didn’t. 

“Cobalt…”

“I’m fine.”

At her flat response, I shut my mouth and looked around the field more.

“Can I hold it? Your shield?" 

She paused and walked over to me. 

"It’s heavy for you, I think.” I gripped the metal and for a minute, both of us were holding it. It felt warm and alive, more alive than Cobalt’s robotic face. Slowly, she let me have more and more of the weight until I was holding in by myself, both arms straining from the struggle of keeping it up. My hands slipped and it fell from my fingers. Cobalt caught it easily. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

“I couldn’t hold it.” I looked at my small, soft hands. 

“Your arms aren’t strong enough,” Skyra piped up, coming up behind me. Her sharp eyes examined my face and her head tilted curiously. After a moment, she grabbed me under my arms, jumped, and flapped hard. Somehow, she hooked both my hands on the branch of a tree ten feet in the air. She perched on top of the branch and looked down at me. “Pull yourself up." 

My arms complained in exhaustion as I kicked, trying to gain purchase. But the bark dug into my hands when I kicked, so I hung limply, trying to catch my breath. In the background, I heard the dull thump of Cobalt’s shield against the wood again. 

"I-I can’t do it.” I started to look down, looking for a soft patch of grass to land on, but Skyra’s wing stopped me.

“Don’t look down.” Sky-blue eyes bore into mine. “Don’t think of ways to quit. Think of ways to win.” I struggled again, my arms shaking now.

“I can’t!" 

"We chose you.” Briar’s voice rose from below. “We could have escaped. We chose you. That must mean something, right?" 

"Why did you choose me?!” I could feel the sting of tears, but I had no hands to wipe it away with. “I can’t even lift myself up! If I can’t save myself, how can I save you?!" 

"Pull yourself up,” said Avira.

“HOW?!” I screamed.

“We believe in you,” said Torrent.

“I WANT TO KNOW HOW I CAN SAVE YOU!" 

"You can do it.” Skyra’s voice came from above. 

I couldn’t say anything more.

I heard the chink, chink sound of Foxglove using his blades to climb the tree. He swung out easily to the branch next to me.

“I’m going to show you once,” he growled. Keeping his feet together, he swung them neatly, quickly building momentum until he had enough to flip his leg over on the branch. I replicated him, messily, and eventually, I climbed on top of the branch, feeling sick and tired. My hands were sheet-white, covered with bits of bark. 

It took a long time for the feeling to return to my fingers, for the breath to return to my lungs. From this high up, I could see over the meadow. Sunlight ran up the sides of goldenrod, ending in pools of dandelions. The light that fell through the trees were chartreuse, ever shifting. I felt like I was at the bottom of my own ocean, staring up into waves drifting above me.

“It’s pretty up here, right?" 

I glanced at Skyra, who had sat down next to me on the bough. Below me, I heard Foxglove walk away, followed by Avira, who was inseparable from him. If I looked carefully, I could see that they looked similar enough to be twins. Briar had already walked off to see to the trees Cobalt had felled. 

"How can I save you?” I asked quietly.

Skyra flipped her hair over her shoulder. 

“Why do you think we need to be saved?”

When she looked back at me with eyes full of fire, I couldn’t help but smile.

“No, I don’t suppose you would need to be saved.”

From below, Torrent chuckled. 

Skyra rose to her feet, making the leaves rustle on our branch. 

“Look at that sky,” she commanded, pointing at the pastel, muted azure of the horizon, “Do I need to be saved from the sky? No. But I do need something that will always draw me back to the ground again.” Her gaze seemed to focus on something. “A lifeline.” I traced her gaze, and saw that she was looking at Briar. “A lightning rod. In this, you are the same. There’s no way you can save us, because we don’t need saving. However, you can love us. You can cherish us. You can remember who we were, so we don’t die needlessly alone. You can understand us with our weaknesses and cover them with the strong parts of yourself, so we are safe. You can fill the chinks in our armor with love and intellect until we are impenetrable. Fix the perception that you can’t do anything. Because you can. Don’t think that you are useless. You are needed. You are necessary. You are loved.”

***

The road unfurled abruptly, an off-white ribbon, edged by vibrant swathes of grass. Skyra ducked from the sky, landing harder than usual and tucking her wings tightly against her back. 

“The air tastes funny,” she said and took my sleeve in her hand. “Tinny. I don’t like it.”

“It’s because it’s an electrically oriented–”

“No, that’s not it. Something is wrong. Something doesn’t feel right.” She was unusually unsettled. 

The casino was the first building that rose up to greet our eyes. Even though the sun was bright in the sky, the radiant light bulbs that dotted the entire building managed to shine and twinkle, pulsing like their own stars. And the closer we got to the town, the more the air started to taste like it had been processed through an air-conditioner. 

“This might be the biggest waste of space I have ever seen,” Foxglove said, craning his neck to see the top of the gigantic casino. Even from outside, we heard the rattling of the machines and the faint laughter of the multitude of gamblers inside. “But I suppose we could stay inside. They probably have beds and food.”

“No,” Skyra retorted sharply, eyes wide, “we won’t go in.”

“We’re all tired,” Foxglove snapped back. “So unless you have a better idea, we’re going in." 

Skyra grabbed him by his clothes and hissed through clenched teeth. 

"We’re not going in, bug-brain, do you understand?” She let him go when I put a hand on her head. “Everything tastes fake here. I can’t even fly. I’m not going in there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snarled, brushing off his clothes, “I didn’t realize you were scared of your own shadow!" 

Skyra was straining against my arms when Avira floated over to Foxglove and draped her arms over his shoulders. 

"He’s just tired,” her light voice danced over to me. “We’re all tired. Let’s just rest in the casino. I’m sure nothing bad will happen." 

Foxglove started to walk towards the iridescent casino, towing the hovering Shedninja. But as they crossed from the street into the sidewalk, Torrent cocked his head.

"Do any of you feel that?” he said, looking around. Foxglove stopped in his tracks and backed away from the door before Avira could grab the doorknob. 

“Eh?” she said, nuzzling her twin, “What’s wrong?”  

A bolt of lightning came hissing out of a metal box from a nearby pole. Before Foxglove or Avira could react, Cobalt jumped into it’s path, getting hit by the full blast. She started twitching as the electricity boiled through her system, eyes shut.

She did not scream. Neither did I. Instead, we both grit our teeth until the electricity fizzled out. I could hear the pole whine as it charged for another bolt.

“Metal Claw!” I spat out. The Aron jumped towards the pole. Her shield crumpled and covered her hand, smoothing out into sharp claws, which easily shredded through the box. She landed heavily, the metal around her fist un-crumpling and curving back into a shield. 

“Cobalt! Are you…” Avira trailed off as Cobalt’s pigtails crumbled into smoking dust. 

“I’m fine,” she said, flicking the ashes of her hair away. “There’s something wrong with the building.” The casino seemed to flicker, as if it weren’t corporeal. The sunlight dimmed like a broken bulb. 

“Ah, she’s perfectly fine!” My blood froze to ice at the sound of his voice. “Although, I was hoping it would hit  _you_. I was wondering if electricity cooked human flesh like fire.”

When I turned, slowly, trying not to tremble, Skyra was already in front of me, her golden daggers drawn. Innocent green eyes flicked to my wrist. 

“Oh, what a nice bracelet you have." 

My hand jerked to the rope of scar tissue that twined around my wrist. Skyra raised her wings, hiding most of me from view.

"Leave,” she barked at Wally. He looked small and cute standing next to his towering bodyguard, much like a puppy. Briar looked at Skyra uneasily, sliding his fingers on the inside of her wrist.

“He’s just a kid,” Briar said, confused, “Skyra?” The Taillow just shook off the quiet hand. 

“Leave!” she repeated, on the verge of screaming. The bodyguard stepped forward slightly.

“Leave?” A small, sad frown placed itself Wally’s face and he tilted his head slightly, eyebrows quirked. “Why should I?” Then, his entire expression changed. A smile ripped his mouth and his pupils constricted into small dots. “I  _own_  this town.” He leaned forward, talking excitedly. “The buildings here? They’re not real. They’re holograms. Do you wanna see?” His hand went into his pocket to press something, a button, and the appearance of the town changed drastically. The vivid sky was no longer there, but was replaced by the dull grey metal of the underside of a huge dome. The casino, as real as it had looked, flickered out, leaving just the people laughing and talking and smiling, all with dark sunglasses on. The walls of the other buildings had disappeared, too. Only the bright red Piece Center had not. In the midst of all the bland colors, it looked like an open wound. “Nothing is real here! My parents built all of it!” The smugness was apparent in his voice. “Those sunglasses make holographic images. All those people in there are rich and they think they’re playing slot machines and eating dinner and having waiters serve them, but it’s all fake!” He laughed and his peals of laughter blended with the laughter of the delusional citizens of this town. “Isn’t that funny? They even have an IV attached to their arm to feed them! They don’t know if they’re real or not.  _I_  don’t know if they’re real or not. And who cares if they are? Who cares if nobody remembers them?” His pearly teeth glinted as he flashed his charming smile, pressing the button again. The walls of the casino went back up, along with the rest of the buildings. The sky was restored. “Who cares if people like them exist?”

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

Gently, I pushed back Skyra’s wing. Taking two calm steps and every ounce of courage that I had, I punched Wally in the face. 

The consequence was immediate. I found myself pushed back, on the ground. Foxglove, who was the fastest, had taken the backhand from the bodyguard that had been meant for me. There was a click and the bodyguard was blasted back by a Mud Shot. I got to my feet, shaking out my hand.

“That’s for my wrist, you brat,” I said, trying to look fierce.

Wally was holding his bloody nose, looking extremely perplexed. 

“You hit me.” His voice gurgled a little bit from the blood and disbelief. 

“And I’m going to do it again if you don’t get out of here.”

“You actually  _hit_  me, you whore. I'm  _sick_. You’re not supposed to hit me.” But his voice was devoid of nastiness. 

“You  _electrocuted_  me, you disgusting invalid, and you’re crying over a bloody nose?”

“It’s not gonna stop bleeding.”

“Aw, cry me a trail of tissues.”

“I have hemophilia. It’s not gonna stop bleeding." 

A beat of silence as he pinched his nose tighter, trying to keep the blood from coming out. 

"Torrent, pick him up.” The Mudkip holstered his guns and easily picked Wally up, holding him upright. “Let’s go to the Piece Center. They’ll be able to fix him up.”

“Let go of me! I can get there by…” Wally trailed off as a wave of nausea hit him.

“It’s always been about that,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “A perfect ‘eye for an eye’, no more, no less. But how am I supposed to kill the person who ran over my brother if he died, too? How do I destroy the Piece that killed Lana if it was in self-defense? How,” I looked back at Wally, “can I take revenge for what you did to me if you will die because of it? None of it makes sense…” I trailed off, feeling my shoulders slump, feeling small and very, very lost. “…none of it is fair.”

He opened his mouth to say something biting, but he decided against it; after all, Torrent was carrying him. Instead he stayed silent, counting the drops of blood that ran down his hand and splattered on the white-paved ground.

Inside the Piece Center, the nurse took one look at Wally and jumped to her feet. She quickly wheeled out a stretcher that was parked behind her desk and helped Torrent sit Wally upright. Before we had a chance to ask her name and tell her what had happened, she wheeled the boy into the back.

We waited for an indeterminable amount of time, unsure of what to do. Torrent turned to me.

“You didn’t scream or cry,” he stated. I shook my head. After a while, he grinned. “Good-o,” he said happily, sounding like the little Mudkip he had been.

I smiled a tiny smile. 

“Good-o,” I repeated.

“Cobalt, are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine." 

Cobalt walked off to find rooms. Foxglove and Avira followed her less energetically.

The door to the entrance slid open with mechanical smoothness and a girl with a willowy legs and slender wrists waltzed in. Vibrant, pine-green eyes were compassed with a heart-shaped face and a waterfall of emerald hair. A soft charcoal dress hugged her lithe frame.

"Are you Alexandra?” she asked with a voice as light as air.

“Yes…?”

When I answered, she dropped into a deep bow.

“I sincerely apologize for my brother’s actions against you, especially concerning the injury on your wrist. I should have been watching him better. Please forgive him and myself.”

“Ah, please don’t–!” I stopped when Torrent put a light hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him to see that his eyes were narrowed, mouth tight. 

“It’s a formality,” he muttered. He was right, because when she stood up, I could see that her eyes showed no regret or guilt. Her face was apathetically even. 

“I am Wynne Arabella Ethel Lytton, that is, 'W’, 'Y’, 'N’, 'N’, 'E’. Wynne. But you may call me Winnie.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust her anymore. 

“How do you know Wally hurt Lexa?” Torrent asked.

“I was informed by a very concerned Steven Stone.”

“Of course he would make you apologize,” Torrent snorted, “I didn’t realize you knew each other.”

“Our family excels in making connections. I was more surprised Steven Stone knew someone like you.” Her last words had a slightly condescending edge. “Although the Stone Family is quite odd, they are valuable allies. If one of them desires for me to bow my head to a juvenile child as yourself, then of course,” she leaned in closer until I could inhale her candy-sweet perfume, “I will not hesitate.”

“Careful there,” Skyra said, sweetly, “Let’s not make Steven choose between us, shall we?”

Something flickered across Winnie’s eyes, and she moved back. We stared at each other.

“I suggest that you do not associate with him anymore,” she said softly, almost menacingly. “Your kind - unestablished, rootless, vagrant - do not mix with ours. We are the highest echelons of society, and you are the dregs. Wouldn’t you agree?”

We heard a patter of steps.

“Is Dad here?” Wally asked breathlessly when he saw Winnie. In that moment, he looked naively excited. 

“Don’t be dull, Wallace. You know that he’s busy.” Winnie started to walk towards the door. “I trust that you will inform Steven Stone that I did my duty, as he seems to be intimate enough with you to have your phone number. Come, Wallace.”

With a look of deep misery, Wally followed his sister out of the Piece Center, holding a bloody rag to his nose. 

I dialed Steven’s number.

“Hello?”

Steven sounded tired. I could imagine him in some dank cave somewhere, comparing mineral specks in the stones underneath him as he cradled a phone in the crook of his shoulder.

“Hey, Steven. It’s Alex.”

“Oh! Hey, sweetheart. Staying out of trouble?”

In the background, I heart a discordant grinding noise.

“Stavros, stop it!” I heard his Metagross say something. “For the last time, collapsing the cave on me is not funny. You’d think that after ten years,  _you would finally understand this_.”

“Steven, Winnie apologized to me.”

“Oh, so you’re in…  _Mauville_.”

I could hear the grimace in his voice. 

“Why did you make her do it?”

“Because I couldn’t make Wallace do it.”

“Did you think that an apology would heal my wrist?”

“No, I–”

“That Wally and I would become best friends–”

“–I just thought that it would heal some of the wounds in your heart. That’s it. Alright, Alexandra? Winnie is a nice girl.”

“Nice gi–! Give me that!” Skyra snatched the phone out of my hand. “Your 'nice girl’ called us trash! The leftovers of society! The dregs of the earth!”

“What? But–”

I quickly took the phone back.

“–I guess she’s different around you,” I said, cutting him off. “That’s not the point. The point is, you interfered in my life, and I am royally pissed off.”

“How can I make it up?”

“Dinner with me next time we meet. You buy.”

There was silence.

“You are one strange girl.”

“It’s either that or your Metagross.”

“Actually,” he muttered, “giving Stavros to you doesn’t sound that bad.” He cleared his throat when I heard a dull punch. “But dinner sounds fine. It sound lovely, actually.”

When I hung up, Torrent smiled at me.

“I know why you did that.”

“I know you do,” I answered, hugging him. “Let’s hope that Steven can turn me into a better trainer.”

***

I felt cagey when I entered the Gym. Knowing that the very walls were holograms did nothing to calm me. 

“Oh, no,” I grabbed Skyra by the collar. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What?!”

“Just like the last Gym,” Briar said, walking past her into the building, “You will get  _demolished_.”

Skyra was on the verge of fighting back when Avira lightly took her arm. 

“It’s good to know your weaknesses, yeah?”

Skyra grit her teeth. 

“Fine,” she said, and turned around. “It just hurt hearing that from the guy that usually inspires me.”

“Ohhhhhh, snap,” Torrent said, snickering when Briar’s back stiffened, “Shots have been  _fired_.”

Smiling sweetly, Briar reached into his back pocket and withdrew a seed the size of an eyeball.

“Do you want to see where I can shove that, Torrent?” he whispered, gently putting it in the Marshtomp’s hand.

“Down, boys. Vent your anger at the gym leader." 

Cobalt, who had been silent this entire time, started to walk towards the arena entrance. 

When I entered the main area, all I could see was a smooth expanse of tiled floor and the Leader sitting at the far side.

"Challengers! So you’ve come!" 

"How do you say someone’s fat without offending them?”

“Shush, Torrent.”

But it was true. A porcine stomach merely ballooned into obese thighs and chunky arms. His plump face was covered with a flowing, yellow-stained beard and the dark sunglasses.

“I’ve given up on my plans to convert the city, I have. And so, I put my time into making door traps in my Gym.”

I looked around the room.

“There’s nothing here,” I whispered.

“I realized,” Torrent whispered back, “Do you think the glasses are affecting– ah, wait! Cobalt!”

The Aron started to rapidly walk across the tiling and stopped in front of the Leader.

“Oh? Now, what are you doing here? What’s that? You say you’ve gotten past all my rigged doors? Wahahahah! Now, that is amusing!” He didn’t even bother to heft himself out of his squishy chair. “Then, I, Strom, the Leader of Mauville Gym, shall electrify you!” With that, he threw out his first PEN. 

“Voltorb, the–” GLaDOS squeaked when I jabbed the mute button and sprinted towards Cobalt and her opponent. 

The Voltorb was simply dressed. She had cherry hair, a crimson shirt, and white pants. But before I could see anymore of her, Cobalt launched herself at the Piece and Headbutted her across the room. 

It must have been a critical hit, because although Cobalt emerged perfectly fine, the Voltorb did not stir. 

“This Gym is mine,” she said quietly. 

“Cobalt, you don’t have a type advantage. Let Torrent–”

“No. Back off.”

“Idiot!” Briar said hotly, “Don’t you remember when happened last time when you tried to do things by yourself?”

“I do,” she responded, already walking towards the Electrike that had been sent out. “And this is my penance.” A Shockwave arched towards her, but Cobalt simply deflected it with a shield and threw her shield at the ceiling, which crashed around the Electrike in a Rock Tomb. She didn’t wait, but finished him off with a Metal Claw. “Next one.” Strom nonchalantly tossed out another PEN, more interested in talking to the invisible people around him.

The battle was happening too fast for me to follow. Whatever Piece that came out of the PEN was immediately buried under a pile of tiles and then mud that Cobalt had scooped from the ground and hurled. 

“Next.”

This time, Cobalt could not dodge the Thunder Wave. There was a blur as a figure flashed towards Cobalt, electricity jumping out of his hands. I saw the vague outline of bright lemon pants, a flapping sapphire jacket, and sandy hair. Just as Torrent started to move towards them, the Manectric put one hand on Cobalt’s head, another on Cobalt’s stomach and used Shock Wave. 

A waterfall of Mudshot and Water Gun slammed the Manectric into the wall, where he ceased to move. 

“Perfect! We are finally done! Here, take your Dynamo Sticker and get out.”

When I moved towards him, he held out the Sticker and a TM, not even paying attention to me. What I did instead was jerk the glasses off his face and break them in half.

“What are you–!" 

”–IF YOUR PIECES COULD DIE, WOULD YOU BE THIS UNCONCERNED?!“ My voice caught in my throat. "WHAT HAVE YOU BECOME?! STUCK IN A VIRTUAL WORD, NOT CARING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT COMES THROUGH! DO YOU CALL YOURSELF A LEADER?! COBALT…!” I couldn’t say anything more, but turned from his shocked face and ran to my Aron. 

“Don’t think of yourself as a bad person because you let me do this.” She was oddly calm. “You’re not. You’re not a bad person.” Slowly, she closed her eyes. “I was the bad one.”

“Cobalt, it wasn’t your fault,” cried Briar.

“Maybe not. But I did cause it. It was my effect, if not a fault." 

I put my hand in hers, squeezing tightly, trying to squeeze the life back into her. Briar was doing the same, while Torrent sprinted to get help.

"Remember?” Her lips drew up in a smile. “An eye for an eye… I hope you can forgive me.” She opened her eyes and I could see the indigo start to darken, but her gaze was courageous once more. “I’m sorry, Lana.”

On the cold tiles of a broken Gym, Cobalt died. 


	13. Again and Again

We buried Cobalt on a grassy slope on Route 118.

 

“No,” I said when Torrent had offered to get a shovel, “Dust to dust.”

What I had said didn’t even make sense to me, but Torrent nodded knowingly and started to scrape away at the damp surface. Even with all of us digging, it took us several hours. 

I preferred it this way. It gave me a chance to say goodbye, to put my love into the soil Cobalt would sleep in forever. Earthworms wriggled under my knees.

The dirt crumbled between my fingers when I planted a Sitrus Berry over her grave and watered it with the tears steadily dripping down my face. Briar bent down and planted another one. 

“For Lana,” he said.

I broke down again.

“I’m sorry, Briar. I promised I wouldn’t lose anyone. But–”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Don’t you dare leave us and wallow in your pool of self-pity. Be strong,” his voice cracked, “For us, be strong.”

Couldn’t he see I was trying?

“My, my, girl, you look dirty.”

I looked up and saw a man mildly staring at me, his fluffy white hair blowing in the wind. In his hands was a bicycle, which he immediately propped up. He pulled out a handkerchief, wet it with some water from his bottle, and gave it to me.

“Wipe your face, girl.”

I swiped at my cheeks with the handkerchief, trying not to get it too muddy, but before I could hand it back, Torrent took it and firmly wiped my face with it. I started to complain. 

“Your Piece knows what he’s doing,” the man interrupted. “Clean outside means clean inside." 

I eyed his coffee-colored loafers and neat polo tucked into slacks. In my head, I imagined what I looked like to him: overgrown hair, dirty dress, tear-streaked face, blackened knees and hands. 

"Have you lost one then?” he asked, gesturing at the grave. 

“Two.”

“It’s never too late to quit.”

“I can’t quit.”

“Why not?”

“I have to do this.”

“It’s never too late to quit. And it’s never  _wrong_  to quit, girl. Hear me?” He closed his eyes to the sun, remembering a different day, a different scene. “I quit two years ago. This town was being filled with PALs. It was just a matter of time before one of mine died, girl. Then, a trainer came by. Strong Pieces in PALs. I was crying in the dirt like you were. He gave me a water bottle and told me that it was better to quit than have no reason to continue.” The man opened his eyes again. “Heard he went crazy, though. Anyway, girl, better not to do this unless you have conviction.” He started to stroll down the road.

“Sir, your bike!”

“Better for you to have it. Good advertising for me, too.”

He waved goodbye. 

After he had left, I sat in the dirt, wondering if quitting was the same as giving up, if what he had said was correct. I had forgotten to give back his handkerchief. 

I did not even touch the tall grass, unwilling to find a new team member. Slowly, the sun slipped below the horizon, staining the sky with shades of rose and apricot. Our shadows grew longer.

“What are you thinking?” Torrent asked while briskly striking the fire starter. With Lana and Cobalt gone, he was having some difficulty. 

“Here, let me try that.”

He willingly handed the flint and steel to me. I chewed at my tongue, thinking. Friction was the point here. Torrent had been simply hitting the flint with the steel as hard as he could. I changed the angle of my hand and hit a long, sliding stroke that sent sparks skittering on the tinder. After gently blowing at some glowing spots, the dried grass caught on fire and soon, we had a campfire. I sat back on my heels, pleased. 

“I’m thinking of what the man said. I’m thinking of Wally and Winnie. I’m thinking of Cobalt and Lana. I’m thinking–”

“–we’re thinking of quitting,” Foxglove said quietly, approaching us, his hand in Avira’s. 

Silence. 

Four pairs of eyes stared at them. 

“You’re joking,” Briar said.

“YOU–!” There was a flurry of feathers as Skyra dived Foxglove.

“COWARD!” she snarled, her dagger inches from his eye. He did not fight back, but lay prone, unmoving. “COWARD! HOW DARE YOU, SO SOON AFTER WE LOST–”

“I don’t want to lose Avira,” Foxglove said, calmly lowering Skyra’s dagger. I dragged her back by her shirt, restraining her. 

“And I don’t want to lose Foxglove.” Avira took Foxglove’s hand again. “We are more than siblings. We are half of a whole. If one of us die, we’ll walk around soulless. We don’t want that. The man said it was okay to quit. And it is.”

Skyra made a strangled noise, and then rocketed into the rapidly darkening sky. Even from that dizzying height, we heard her scream. 

I motioned for Foxglove to come closer. He did and gazed steadily at me, our heights level. 

It was okay, I think. It would be okay to let them go. 

Red eyes steadily looked back at me. 

“How old are you, Foxglove?”

“Seventeen in human years, nineteen in Piece years.”

“You never take off your mask.”

He smiled and slid off his face coverings. His hair was a warm sandy color. Again, I could feel the sting of tears. 

If it was okay, then why did I feel so sad? 

His cool hands took my cheeks and kissed my forehead. 

“This is my blessing, for whatever it’s worth,” he said. “I do not fear you any longer, Master, but who knew I would come to enjoy your presence." 

Avira gave me the same blessing. 

"And this is mine." 

I took a good look at her, trying to memorize her face.

"Master, a word of warning. Avoid the dark spirits that swirl the air and the hushed whispers.”

Foxglove shook Torrent’s hand and ruffled Briar’s hair. Avira hugged both of them. 

Then, they melted into the woods, as only shadows do, out of our vision. Out of our lives. 

We were left alone, with the fire crackling merrily. 

“Now it’s just us four.” Skyra’s voice was hoarse when she landed. “I can’t believe they… It’s just us four.”

“They had every right to leave,” I said. “And it wasn’t wrong of them to. It’s okay if it’s just us four.”

Briar took my hand.

“She’s right,” he said calmly. “Just as our loyalty to each other keeps us here, their loyalty to each other made them leave. And us four is more than enough.”

_People are leaving you again, Alex._

I shook my head to the voice.

_Are you really that complacent? You just let them–_

“Someone tell me a story,” I said abruptly, interrupting the voice. 

“…What?”

“A story. Someone tell me a story. Your favorite memory.”

Skyra’s eyes lit up.

“At Slateport. Remember where we battled the soda pop people? That was the funniest battle of my life. It was so easy!”

I laughed, grateful that Skyra was distracted.

“I never actually saw that battle,” I reminded her, sitting down, “Were all of you awesome?" 

"Nah, just me,” Torrent boasted, only to be punched by Briar. “Although, it was the funniest thing. Skyra got Tackled on wing so she went spiraling into Bri–” He laughed hysterically when Skyra turned red. 

“I thought you said we were never going to mention that!” she hissed, leaping on Torrent. The Marshtomp was up on his feet in a second. 

“Wanna go, Taillow?” he chuckled.

“You’re on, sucker!" 

They both jumped at each other, thrashing and laughing. 

"You know,” Briar said to me, “You should probably join in. It would be good exercise.”

“What, no. They’d kill me. They’re both ridiculously stronger than me. Why don’t you join them?”

“Because I would kill Torrent. By accident.” He placed sarcastic quotes around his words. “And they’re not going to go all out on you. Trust me. It’ll be fun.” He gave me a little push.

So, hesitantly, I vaulted over Skyra and crashed into Torrent. We both fell down, but his arms formed a protective cage around me so that I was rattled, but not bruised. 

Here, I learned something.

When I threw kicks and punches at Torrent, he would block them so that I only hit the back of his arms. Through sheer force, he grinned, deflected, and lightly jabbed at my stomach and back. But when I tried to hit Skyra, she would redirect my fists and legs with taps so that I was missing by millimeters. Her fists hurt more, but not enough to bruise.

Interesting.

I dropped out of the match, panting and giggling, while Torrent and Skyra still sparred. 

My phone pinged.

Scott: Congratulations on the Gym! I’ll be cheering for you!

***

“Two punches.”

“No way!”

“Three punches.”

Torrent laughed, slugging Briar on the shoulder. 

“There is no way you’re going to be hotter than me when you evolve!”

“I’m betting you four punches that I will be.”

“Lexa, what do you think?”

They were happy today. The entire week, the weather had been gorgeous. We had helped clear a tunnel with Rock Smash and had gotten the HM Strength for our troubles, not to mention a delicious dinner from the couple we had reunited. Training had been going smoothly, as well. 

“Hm,” I responded, bending a sheaf of grass away from my head, “are we talking about cute or hot?”

“Hot. Like, smoking hot. Skyra won’t answer because she's  _biased._ ”

“Che!” Skyra said, “More like I don’t care.”

“Buzzkill,” Torrent sang. I couldn’t help but giggle. “So who, Lexa? You’re gonna have to choose. Briar and Skyra are evolving in like, two battles.”

“Both of you are always going to be my cuties.”

They continued to argue. Honestly, I couldn’t quite imagine what they would be like older than me. Right now, it all felt like we were the same age. 

Skyra grabbed my sleeve.

“Do you think Lana and Cobalt would be okay with us being this happy?” she asked quietly, looking up at me, unsure of herself. 

How rare, this doubt reflected in her eyes. 

“Do you remember how cheerful Cobalt used to be before Lana died? And how nice Lana was? I’m sure they would want us to be happy, okay Skyra?”

She was about to respond when Briar tackled a Poochyena. Skyra immediately swooped in with a Quick Attack, landing neatly on her feet. The golden sparks whirled around her daggers and around Briar’s slingshot. 

“Briar leveled up. Evolution is imminent. Skyra leveled up. Evolution is imminent.”

Briar whimpered once, but didn’t scream. 

“Don’t touch me,” he managed to say before convulsing on the ground while the white light wrapped around him. Meanwhile, Skyra had already taken to the sky, flying higher and higher until I could barely see her. 

“Man, now they’re both gonna be older than me,” Torrent grumbled, “But definitely not hotter.”

“Do you think they’ll have a personality change like you did?”

“Why?” Torrent asked, catching my hand in his, “Are you scared?”

I looked up again at the sky and saw Skyra again, rapidly descending. But my attention was drawn to the ground when the light subsided and Briar picked himself off the floor.

“Daaaaaaaamn,” Torrent drew out the word, giving Briar a once over. “Boy, you are fiiiiine." 

Suddenly, Torrent shot backwards, landing heavily in the bushes. My heart jumped in fear, and I was ready to recall Briar into his PEN. However, Torrent rose from the bushes, shaking leaves out of his hair.

"Dick Mach Punch, mushroom.”

“Sorry, baby. It was a love tap.” Briar’s voice had gotten deeper, less grumpy, more confident. He was taller than Torrent now, with dark green jeans, light olive cardigan and cream-colored skinny tie. His button up was a fresh lime. Bending over, he picked up a sage-green fedora with a maroon band, dusted it off, and put it on his head. 

“Breloom, the Mushroom Piece. It scatters spores and loves warm and humid climates. It feeds on trees and plants in fields and forests.”

I remembered Skyra and looked up again. So did Briar. 

“She’s… not slowing down,” I said nervously, as the figure came plummeting towards us. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Briar responded.

“Are you su–”

I was interrupted by a blood-curling yell as Skyra hurtled into the sky again, grazing the top of the tall grass. Her wingspan had almost doubled in size. She made a sharp turn and dove towards Briar, colliding with him and sending both of them skidding across the floor. 

“Did you see me fly?!” she demanded, vehemently, banging both fists on his chest when they had stopped rolling. She still had on the same red bandana and white tank top, but her shorts had been swapped for red jeans. A sleeveless navy coat billowed from under her legs and her long ponytail had an electrifying streak of maroon. 

Briar propped himself up on his elbows.

“I did.”

“I’m so fast now!”

“You are,” Briar murmured, reaching forward and unknotting her bandana. Once he did, he tied it around his wrist, like a cuff, and settled his hat on her head. 

“You’re a lot taller, too." 

"I am,” he said, bringing her fingers, the back of her hands to his lips. Skyra turned red all the way down to her neck, her wings twitching.

“Arceus, you’re embarrassing,” she muttered, looking away. 

“Hm? Yeah. I am.”

Then, he cupped her face, leaned in, and kissed her. 

Suddenly, Torrent took my hand, running and tripping towards the start of Route 112. But even though Torrent was smiling, something felt off. 

“Torrent, what’s wrong?" 

"Wrong? Nothing.”

“Torrent?”

He slowed to a walk and turned to me. 

“Torrent, something’s wrong.”

His only answer was to nuzzle into my shoulder, holding me tightly. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Lexa,” he crooned, hugging me tighter. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Torrent…” I felt a shuddering sob escape his lungs. “Torrent, after my brother died, all I said was ‘I’m fine’, hoping that whoever listened to me believed it, hoping that I would believe it. But I wasn’t. And it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, but don’t pretend for one second that you are okay right now.”

He did not say a word, but continued to cry like his heart was broken. 


	14. Fire Fight

Can you blame be for falling in love with my best friend?

I mean, we were together all the time, him, Skyra, and me. We were the original team. We’re all that’s left now. And that’s why I can’t exactly go up to Skyra as say “GTFO”, because I like her. I like that punk Taillow, with her brave eyes. Well, I guess it’s Swellow now. 

But I fucking love him. I love him so much, that when we are together, doing team battles or just random shit, I feel like I can release this huge breath I’ve been holding in. 

But he doesn’t feel the same way. 

I remember, I started to fall for him for the stupidest reason ever, which was that he reminded me of grass. 

…Grass. 

Like, what the actual fuck. 

But then again, grass makes sense. See, when I was a little Mudkip, I was always shut up in the lab. The Professor had me for fifteen years and I think I went outside less than twenty times in those fifteen years. And I always used to think, damn, grass is really pretty. 

It came to represent everything that I yearned for in the outside world. Then, when I met him with Lexa, he was always taking care of me and putting up with my shit. 

He still puts up with my shit. 

I think there was this one time where I woke up and I was hugging him really tightly. I mean, Wrap-style, squeezing him so hard his breath barely came trickling out of his lungs. And he was awake, too. But he didn’t say anything. He just let me hug him and patted my back in that “go to sleep” pattern that seems so universal. 

He smelled like Peacha Berries. 

And now that he’s evolved… goddamn, did you see him, with his skinny jeans and cardigan– you know he’s taller than me now?!

This is stupid. 

What? Yes, okay, fine. I cried. Big deal. People cry all the time. But I didn’t exactly expect them to kiss as soon as they evolved. Or maybe I did, and I was just denying it. Anyway, I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward by telling him I liked him.

Is it sad that the only way I could touch him was by punching him? 

Is it pitiful that the one time I tried to kiss him, I skimmed his cheek with my mouth and almost got knocked out with an Absorb so anger-fueled that Lexa had to pull him off and stop him from strangling me?

This is stupid. 

Just wanted to let you know. 

Yes, I know I’m talking to a tree stump, but who the fuck am I supposed to talk to? Lexa? 

Well… not a bad idea. But I’m sure she has her own problems to deal with. She talks in her sleep a lot. Most of the time, it’s the cutest freaking thing ever when she’s like, “More cheese on this animal, please,” or “Fear me, tiny peeps.” I try so hard not to laugh and wake her up. 

But sometimes, it’s pretty sad stuff. She says “Mommy!” a lot and “Daddy?” as a question. I guess it sucks to know you have a dad, and not have him grow up with you. Briar’s the same. His dad got captured by a trainer with a PAL and I’m pretty sure that’s why Briar’s so frown-y all the time. 

There are also times where she says things that make me so fucking mad, like, “Stop!” or “It hurts!” or “Ash, ow, it’s sharp!" 

The worst part is that she thinks whatever he did to her is completely okay. She’s that brainwashed and I can’t convince her otherwise. To her, Ash is the god that saved her from being alone and kept her safe.

I roll over and face Lexa. In the hard moonlight, I can see her face change with the emotions that flash through her head. As the clouds scuttle across the sky, she briefly opens her eyes and I can see the royal blue shining through. In this light, I can’t see the golden circles, radiating outwards like ripples in a pond. I wonder what she is thinking as her eyes focus on me. Is she still dreaming? 

"Torrent?” she whispers and half-raises her body off her sleeping bag. “You okay?" 

I hesitate a moment before answering. 

"Nah.” I might as well tell her. I’m not afraid of her loving me less. 

She sleepily gets out of her sleeping bag and flops next to me, nuzzling into my hair. 

“Mmmmm…” she hums, “What’s wrong?”

Am I sure I want to tell her? 

Will it change anything between us? 

I take the risk. 

“I’m in love with Briar.”

Her body snaps to attention when she registers what I say.

“That’s… oh, I see.”

Yeah. Nothing will change.

This is what I like about her. Her voice is comforting, but she doesn’t pity me. She knows how pity can twist people into thinking the world owes them something. 

“Thank you for not telling people I cried.” When she chuckles, I kiss her forehead solidly with a loud smacking sound. “For real, though. Don’t wanna ruin my masculine image.”

Beyond her, I can see Briar and Skyra sleeping together, their hands touching and I fucking swear to Arceus, I can hear my–

Oh, did you think I was going to say “heart breaking”? If you actually have gotten your “heart broken”, you know where the feeling comes from. It’s not your heart ripping, it’s your soul reshaping, attempting to redefine itself to accept the reality of the situation. To accept that the person you would die for is now… dead. Off-limits. Makes sense?

My vision of them is blocked when her face looms closer to mine, eyes stretched wide and eyebrows raised. Her tongue darts out to lick my nose. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making funny faces,” she responds. She flings her arm outward, making an explosion sound-effect, and drums her heels onto the ground. “You know what I noticed?” she asks, jumping on me. I grunt with the impact and lie on my back, circling her bicep with my hand, measuring her muscle mass as I do every day. I’m guessing that all the sparring is helping, because she’s getting stronger. She doesn’t get tired as much and she can do one pull up now. And let me tell you, one is a lot better than hanging there, kicking. 

“What did you notice?”

“I don’t feel like Lana and Cobalt left us. I feel like they’re with us." 

"Like ghosts?” It would be a problem if they were ghosts. Revengeful spirits are bad, bad news. 

“Well, no…” she re-adjusts herself so that she’s cuddled up to my side again, lightly pulling at my jacket. “Every time the sun rises, I can feel them pulling at me, telling me to wake up. Every time I breathe, I can feel them talking with each other; Lana’s still timid and Cobalt’s still confident. It’s like they’re walking next to us and everywhere at the same time, having fun with us, crying with us.”

“It makes sense. They’re part of the earth again. And all things are recycled.”

“Yeah. That’s why when Skyra asked me if it was okay to be this happy while they were gone, I said it was alright. Because, they’re not actually, really, truly gone.”

The wind is strong tonight and I can smell the rain front that will move in soon. The grass around us ripples like a miniature ocean. I feel better. Really.

Briar asked me about Lana and Cobalt, too, before he evolved. I guess he wasn’t feeling too happy about them dying. Well, duh. It was peculiar, how uneasy he was about it, how much it differed from his usual apathy for trivial things.

“Briar asked me about them, before he evolved.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him that we’ll all come back. That we’ll disperse and then be born again and we won’t ever really lose each other. And we should try our best to be strong for those behind us and those that will come into our lives.”

I feel the vibrations of her throat when she says something, but interrupt her to turn her head towards me.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. One more time?”

“When I meet you, in that moment, I’m no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past,” she recited. “But in that instant, I get to share your present. And you, you get to share mine. And that is the greatest present of all. This isn’t my first time here. This isn’t my last time here. These aren’t the last words I’ll share. But just in case, I’m trying my hardest to get it right this time around.”

Her words sway in the air in front of me, as soft as silt, as light as sunset. I can almost imagine my future rearranging itself to fit those words in. And I can feel my perspective shifting to receive them. 

“Sounds familiar,” I manage to say. 

“Steven texted them to me.”

“You guys text a lot?”

“He gives me poetry to read and I tell him what I think about it.”

“Do you like him? As in, fancy him.”

“Fancy,” she giggles. Then, she’s silent. But she’s not deciding, she’s debating. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it means to fancy someone. I don’t know that kind of love and what it entails.”

I nod.

“Torrent?” she asks after some time has passed.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know about Steven. I don’t know if I ever will. But I know that I love you. And no matter what, I will always love you. You guys… you guys are the first friends I ever made, so I’m sorry if I haven’t been treating you guys the way friends should. But thank you for putting up with me and loving me. You guys are a blessing.”

Arceus, definitely too cute. 

I want to look away because I know my face is burning up, but I press my cheek against hers and inhale. 

Exhale. 

She settles back to sleep.

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

She smells like, well, a girl. Some kind of flower and soap and saltwater. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

“You are my blessing, too,” I whisper. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

I start to slide into my dreams when a column of flame shoots straight into the sky. 

I’m on my feet already, but everybody else seems to still be asleep. How am I the only one that sees - goddamn heavy sleepers. 

Again, the night lights up in shades of red and orange, this time, further away in the grass. 

We haven’t caught our first Piece in this route, so I scoop up Lexa’s bag and head towards the light. 

Where’s my reinforcement?

Hah, please.

Do you think anything that shoots flames has a chance against me? 

Everything is charred around my feet and ash floats thickly in the air. It doesn’t bother me, though. But the flames are moving away quickly, so I run to catch up. 

“Guess who has resistance to fire, bitch?” I shout when I see a figure through the smoke. 

I flinch when the Piece screams; I can feel them rattling in my chest. It sounds like it’s scared.

“Are you hurt? Let me-” When I step closer, it screams again, so I stop. 

It sounds hurt. 

The best way to calm it would be to catch it and send it to a Piece Center. 

“Come on! Let me help you!” I put a PEN in my pocket and toss the bag into a safe corner behind a huge boulder. 

Huh, right on time because a wall of flame engulfs me and I’m pushed back by the pressure of it, not the heat. It stops and then I’m slammed with it again. 

I taste fear in the fire. I taste pain. 

“I’ll help you!" 

I push forward, ignoring the fire licking at my face. It’s a slow, step-by-step process, but eventually, I lock a hand around its wrist and tap its hand with a PEN. 

***

So apparently it was a Numel. 

He and Lexa are talking together at the other end of the Piece Center. I think the rest of the team went up to the room. 

He’s interesting. He has curly, straw-colored hair which looks weird with his skin, which is almost as tanned as Skyra’s. Because he’s just a lower evolution, he’s wearing a green t-shirt and yellow-orange shorts, but he has nice, broad shoulders. Very nice broad shoulders. 

He glances at me, holding his upper arm with one fidgeting hand and then looks away, blushing furiously when Lexa hugs him. Tentatively, he circles his arms around her shoulders. 

"You have strange eyes,” I say when they walk over. And they are strange, flickering garnet to tangerine to saffron. “Are you okay? You were screaming like it hurt.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he stammers. “My name is Aiden. What’s yours?”

“Torrent. Let’s see your emblem.”

“Emblem?” Lexa asks, confused. “Do you mean weapon?”

I poke her in the ribs.

“I thought you were texting Brendan questions.”

“I’m trying,” she whined, “but I don’t know everything.”

“An emblem is a reflection of a Piece’s personality and it’s where all the experience points go into. It can also double as weapons, or it doesn’t have to. For example, my guns are my emblem and my weapons. Eris had an anklet, which was her emblem, but she didn’t have a physical weapon. Skyra and Briar exchanged emblems when they just evolved, but not weapons. Get it?" 

"I’d r-rather not show…” Aiden interrupts.

And of course, I’m instantly suspicious. 

Would you not be? 

Emblems are supposed to be reflections of a Piece’s personality, so what does he want to hide about himself?

“Show,” I order.

Slowly, he turns around and lifts his shirt up. The muscles of his back shift until a simple tattoo of a sea turtle appears. 

I take a step back. It’s involuntary.

On his back, the turtle moves in a fluid, floating motion, drifting from his shoulder blade to the small of his back. 

I snatch Lexa’s arm and push her behind me, setting my guns to Water Gun.

Do you know what tattoos mean? 

Self-loathing. 

Usually, tattoos are animals that are in a similar element. If you’re fire, you’ll have a phoenix fluttering around. Poison, a cobra. 

But a tattoo in a conflicting type? 

That. That means a suicide attempt. 

“Why did you bother to join when you have no will to live?” I snarl. His hands are shaking as he slowly lowers his shirt. 

“I-I’m… I’m d-different now. I–”

“–or maybe you thought I could finish you off? Because I have a type advantage? Is that why you joined?”

“Torrent!” Lexa’s voice cracks like a whip against my eardrums. “That’s enough.”

Are you kidding me? 

We fight every day to survive, to see our friends one more time, but this Numel has the audacity to want to die?

I won’t let her through, even though she’s pushing against my arms. Instead, Aiden turns to me and takes a step forward. 

“I’m different now.” His voice is firm. “You won’t regret taking me.”

I’m about to say something insulting when Lexa puts a hand on my face, palming it like a starfish stretched on a rock. Immediately, all the fight goes out of me and I woof a big breath. 

“Is this how you stop people from fighting?” I ask her, muffled by her palm. 

“I’m not good at it,” she frowns, “But don’t fight. Aiden will prove himself. And he’s a fire-type, which we need. And he’s also warm and I’m cold at night sometimes.”

Ha! That would be why she would want him on the team. I can’t help but to grin.

But I don’t trust him. And while we’re walking up the stairs into our room, I keep Lexa to one side of me. The suicidal can do dangerous things. 

Briar and Skyra are already sleeping, curled up next to each other. 

I don’t want to cry.

I don’t want to cry.

I don’t want to cry.

I don’t want to cry.

Lexa falls asleep immediately between us. She’s facing Aiden, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do. So I take his wrist and pull it around her waist so that it curves down her back. 

He says something, so I take his jaw and angle it towards me so that I can read his lips. 

“I’m deaf. One more time.”

“Thank you for saving me today.”

“Eh. How did you even hurt yourself? Was it a territory battle?”

“No, I… I jumped off a cliff.”

Of course. 

“But I’m different now!” he insists when he sees the look on my face. 

“Yeah, different, my ass. What changed between then and now, huh, punk?”

“You saved me,” he says quietly. “You fought for my life when even I had given up. I wanted to burn you to the ground for interfering but you pushed through the flames like nothing and rescued me. I owe you a debt.”

And his eyes are so fucking serious and steady that I believe him. 

“I still don’t trust you for shit. You better keep yourself under control. If you so much as singe any of our team, I will drown you.”

“Yes, sir,” he smiles.


	15. Reasoning

It’s not the physical changes that threw me off when I evolved.

 

It took me all of two seconds to recognize the wind currents again and adjust to my longer wings. Clothes, of course, will always be as infinite and insignificant as feathers; you can strip them off and they’ll grow back in a few hours. My hair got longer, I got stronger, my dive-bomb became flawless, as expected. That’s the point. It’s all expected. 

It’s the mental changes that still leave me reeling. Now, even on the ground, I have to look down to meet Alex’s eyes. 

No, it’s not just a physical disparity. I feel like I need to protect her now because she’s so small against me. I’ve always felt like I needed to protect her, but the urge has doubled, tripled, quadrupled. 

I don’t feel trapped anymore when she hugs me. I feel like the sky is all around me now, and that she is just a velvet fragment of it.

I wonder if this is how Torrent felt when he evolved, because that’s when he started to like Briar. 

Yes, I saw it, I saw his glances and the way he grazed his hand against Briar’s shoulder and the punches that amounted to “I love you’s” bloomed in bruises.

I see everything.

And I ignored it. 

And it makes me a terrible, horrible person.

Briar reaches out and strokes the inside of my wrist. 

It calms him, to feel my pulse, to feel the tattoo of my existence beating against his fingertips. He knows I think too much and too far and too deeply. 

“If I can guess what you are thinking, do I get a kiss?” he asks quietly as we make our way towards the Fiery Pass. He will have to go inside the PEN when we reach it, since the flames will be too much for him. 

I have to balance on the tip of my toes to kiss him.

“I like having my thoughts to myself,” I say.

He barks a laugh, lifts my hat, and kisses my head.

I like his new confidence. And height. 

Should I tell him about Torrent? Should I tell him that someone else also watches the way his muscles flick and searches for his leafy eyes in the dark?

“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair, and when I feel the familiar fire creep into my cheeks, he moves forward to walk next to Alex. He adjusts the strap of her bag so that it isn’t digging painfully into her shoulder anymore. At her dimpled smile, he bends down to put his mouth to her temple and ruffles Torrent’s hair. 

I can see it on Torrent’s face, the way his eyes slide away from Briar, the way he runs a hand through the hair Briar’s fingers touched. 

Briar returns to me.

I cannot tell him.

And I ignore it.

And it makes me a terrible, horrible person.

The new one in our party, Aiden, walks next to Alex and Torrent. He has century-old eyes and a gaze that’s as heavy as the air before a thunderstorm. 

He introduced himself before, bowing in a razor-sharp, ninety degree angle and whispering his name.

Broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist. I see the turtle smoothly swim down his arm to his wrist and beside me, Briar twitches in disgust.

But I understand. Suicide takes a certain type of bravery. 

The air has already started to oscillate in waves in the heat. We made good time; we don’t have to wait so long for Alex now.

“Briar? I think you have to go inside,” she says. 

“Okay, Baby Girl,” he puts his forehead to hers, nuzzling, breathing. “Be careful.” He already looks uncomfortable from the heat.

Does this love, this yearning to protect run through all of our veins?

With a brush of his lips on my cheek, Briar disappears in a flash of light. Torrent crouches in front of Alex, offering his back and she clambers onto him.

“Oof,” he sighs, slowly straightening his legs. “You have muscle on you now.”

“I can walk, Torrent.”

“Muscle is a good thing. And the floor’s too hot. Make sure to fly, Skyra.”

“I know,” I reply. 

And it really is easy to glide, stretching my wings and rolling on the updrafts. Little spurts of fire far into the cave constantly light our path, as well as springs of magma. Even in his jacket, Torrent is unaffected and Aiden is happy but Alex has sweat dripping down her face onto Torrent’s collar. 

“So jumping off a cliff didn’t do you in, huh?”

“Torrent,” she says sharply, “Don’t start this.”

“Why?” his voice is light, “I think we deserve to know.”

“It’s his business.” Her cheeks are red from the heat and her eyes looked glazed. 

“It’s our business if he decides to kill one of us w–”

“I charred a family into ashes,” Aiden interrupts.

“How kind of you,” Torrent snorts derisively, “how sweet of you.”

“A human family,” the Numel adds quietly. “They were going to catch me in a PAL. I saw my mother and my father be taken in a PAL. I saw my friends disappear. So I melted the flesh off their bones.”

“Alex, you don’t look well,” I say. Her eyes are tightly shut.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” she whispers. 

I snatch her off Torrent’s back and rocket towards the entrance.

We barely make it. 

On the dirt outside, Alex vomits nothing but bile. When he catches up, Aiden easily picks her up, trying to find shade, but hurriedly places her back on the ground when she squirms violently.

“Skyra, don’t just stand there. Fan her,” Torrent snaps, stripping off his jacket and shirt. I do, watching Aiden’s face turn stiff and tight-lipped. “Lexa, Lexa it’s me.”

“Hot,” she whines, “hot.”

Torrent pulls her to his chest, resting his cool cheek on her fiery ones. 

“I know. Aiden was hot, right?”

She nods. I guess that was the reason why she pushed him off, not because of his inclination to incinerate humans. The Numel visibly relaxes. 

“C'mon, Lexa, hands on my neck. There we go, much better, right? I think the fires in there ate up the oxygen. That plus heat is not so good.” He shoots a glare at Aiden. “We’re continuing our conversation later. Hold on Lexa, you’ll be okay.” With an arm behind her knees and one behind her shoulders, he lifts her and starts walking down the path. “I’m gonna start walking to Fallarbor Town. Catch a new team mate if you can and then follow me. And Skyra,” he looks over his shoulder, and I’ve known him long enough to understand what he’s thinking. 

Keep an eye on Aiden.

***

Quietly, we creep through the grass, listening for any signs of movement. Aiden, for all his broad shoulders and height, walks softly and meekly, eyes on the ground. 

“How many humans did you kill?" 

He jumps at the sound of my voice, then quickly bows his head again.

"Four. A father, a mother, and two little boys. They were twins. I hadn’t meant to kill them. I had just wanted to scare them off, but I couldn’t control myself through my fear.”

“And what did you do afterwards?”

“I,” his voice becomes even quieter. “I put their ashes in the ocean. Far away from any kind of fire. And then I jumped in. I can’t swim, so I lost consciousness very fast, but I woke up on the shore with burning lungs and the tattoo of a turtle swimming on my skin.” He looks up at me, flashing a brief half-smile. “Just my luck, huh?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Everything happens for a reason,” I say, stopping when I hear a noise. We stand still and then continue when it does not repeat. 

“Do you think Alexandra is scared of me?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Why not indeed? 

Alex fears death. Alex fears loss. Alex fears rape. That’s what her brother told her to fear. But how can she fear something she’s never experienced? That’s why she cannot fear things until she’s in the midst of them, until she sees Cobalt’s limp hands or smells the rusty scent of blood on the floor. Until then, she is safe in not knowing, in ignorance. 

I shrug.

“Fear,” I say, “is only as profound as the mind allows.”

Do you know what the funniest thing about moral dilemmas is? The way they creep out of a clump of grass when you’re not expecting them. 

This is exactly what happens.

The Manectric’s hair is a messy blond and he must be moderately old in Piece years because he looks like he’s in his late twenties, in human years. Golden bracelets circle his wrists, echoed by a similar collar and yellow skinny jeans. Crumpled up in his hands is his beryl-colored wife beater and darker indigo jacket. He looks at us, his narrow shoulders half turned away, the lean muscles of his stomach tensed.

The familiar facial features - the pointed nose, the high cheekbones, the rounded eyes - only continue to drown my sinking heart when I see yellow polish on his finger nails. 

I may be wrong. I hope and pray that I am wrong as I draw a PEN from Alex’s bag, but I know that in a world where everything happens for a reason, this Manectric is most certainly, most definitely Lana’s brother. 

As I said before, I have a problem. 

I can turn around and leave. I can pretend we couldn’t catch him and let him free. But this would mean lying to Alex and violating the rules she promised to uphold, not to mention robbing our already small team of a potentially useful Piece. Or I can kill him, but I already know that I won’t be able to, nor would I allow Aiden to. 

But.

But.

But if I catch him, he will unquestionably ask us if we know his sister, if we had seen his sister. And we will be forced to tell him that, by our hands, Lana was killed. 

That we murdered her. 

That the Piece who was directly involved was also eradicated.

Problem, problem, prob–

He jumps at me, and I have no choice but to lunge at him, knocking him down, and throw a PEN at him. 

In two clicks, his fate is sealed.

I pause for a second, terrified, then scrabble through Lana’s bag for Briar’s PEN.

“Skyra? What–” but he stops talking when I grab his arms.

“I caught Lana’s brother.”

“What? What?! Why?!”

“No other options.”

He doesn’t argue with me. He knows that when I say ‘no other options’, I mean it. I see guilt storm across his face and I know he feels at least partially responsible for Lana’s death.

“We have to tell Lexa,” he says.

“But he’s going to ask about Lana. It’s unavoidable. And who knows how he’ll react?”

“If it’s unavoidable, it’s unavoidable,” Aiden cuts in. He has his hands shoved in his pockets. “He can’t get past you to Lexa if he decides to direct his rage that way and with his level, he can’t kill you either. But it’s better to let him know the truth.”

“We killed his  _sister_ ,” Briar says.

“We killed a lot of things. That’s how life is,” Aiden states.

“So that makes it okay?”

“It makes it the truth.”

Briar strangles his next sentences. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is a frustrated sound.

I twine my fingers into his, massaging is palm. 

We look at other.

We decide. 

 


	16. Dense

_Darkness._

_It’s a lucid dream; I can tell. The only dreams I have these days are lucid anyway._

_I am floating calmly when the silhouette of a person appears. I frown._

_“I didn’t make you.”_

 

_**Of course you didn’t. I made myself.**   
_

_His voice reverberates in my chest._

_“Huh,” I reply, “What personification of my psyche are you? Greed? Ego?”_

_**I made myself.** _

_“I would guess ego then.” I divert my attention away. Dreams are always so listless. I would wake up, but then I wouldn’t get enough sleep. And Aspen would worry._

_**You like her.**   
_

_“Who?”_

**_Alex._ **

_“That’s true.”_

_**You love her.**   
_

_I wave my hand vaguely._

_“It’s all chemicals,” I reply._

_**You fell in love with her.**   
_

_“It’s possible.”_

_**You can’t.**   
_

_“Why not?”_

_I see a slice of his mouth, his grinning, bone-white teeth._

**_Because you aren’t in the plan._ **

_“What plan?"_

_I’m bored._

**_Stay away from her._ **

_"Mm. Go away.”_

**_Stay away from her or I’ll burn her hands, strip off the flesh, and feed it to her._ **

_“Violent.” I look at him. “I would never think like that. Who are you?”_

**_Stay away from her. Steven will be faithful to me. But I don’t trust you._ **

_More of his face comes into view. Pale cheeks, a part of a light-blue eye. It’s all very familiar._

_“Who, Steven Stone? That’s strange. Why would you mention him?”_

**_Stay away from her, or I’ll turn her Pokémon against her and you’ll find them chewing on her lungs._ **

_I bolt upright._

_“You said Pokémon. I definitely do not think like that. Nor does anybody I know. Who are you?”_

**_Stay away from her, or I’ll make her kill you._ **

_“Who are you?”_

**_I can do it. I can make her kill you. I can make her kill each one of her pathetic Pokémon._ **

_“_ Who are you? _”_

_**Would you like me to tell you my name?**   
_

_His mouth leans into my ear, whispers a name, then bites down on my jugular._

_Ripping pain._

_I don’t say a word, even when his mouth comes up dripping scarlet._

**_I’m not lying. Wake up. You’ll find the wing of a bird beside you. My sign. Wake up. Don’t tell her about our conversation. And stay away from her. Wake up._ **

I bolt upright, sweating.

But when I see the wing, ligaments still jerking from being ripped from a warm body, I scream.

Aspen screams with me.

  
  


***

“You did  _what?!_ ” Torrent stared at Skyra, mouth open and eyebrows twisted in anger. “In what world would that ever qualify as being the most  _logical_  idea?!”

“Torrent,” I said, hand on his shoulder, “calm down.”

“ _Calm down?!_ ” He whirled at me, jabbing a finger at the PEN in my hand, “That’s what you’re going to have to say to the Manectric when he realizes we’re responsible for Lana’s death!”

“Our duty is to tell him,” Skyra stated.

“Are you fucking–” he paced in a short, tight circle, the frustrated words bubbling out of his mouth, “Our  _duty_  is to protect Lexa!”

“So what would you have had me done? Kill him?”

“Yes!” Torrent screamed. 

By the time Aiden’s fist crashed into Torrent’s jaw, Skyra was already at the Numel’s throat, her katanas blades mere millimeters away. Likewise, Briar had his fist, sheathed in knuckledusters, lightly held against Aiden’s temple. 

“YOU GODDAMN FUCKPUDDLE, DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!” Torrent screeched from the ground, cradling his cheek. Briar was doing his best to stifle his laughter with his free hand. “BITCH, YOU’RE LUCKY I WASN’T READY FOR THAT OR I WOULD BEAT THE–”

“No. I don’t have a death wish. Because usually, Pieces don’t want to  _die_ ,” Aiden angrily pushed the blades away from his throat. “But you’re telling me, that you wanted Skyra to kill the Manectric because you are too much of a coward to tell the truth? What’s the point of saving me if you kill someone for no reason with the same hand?”

Torrent gritted his teeth and his lips lifted in a snarl. He looked like a wolf then, with his teeth bared. I wondered if they were old instincts, if the same face was used when Pieces trundled along with bears and fought over territory and seeds. 

“No hitting, Aiden,” I said, holding out a hand for Torrent. “But I think it’ll be okay. I mean, I think all of you will be–” I yelped when he yanked me to the ground.

“Oops, sorry. Forgot I’m heavy.” Instead of letting my go, he wrapped his arms around me while I settled in between legs. 

“Anyway, I think you’ll all be faster. So it doesn’t matter much. And - Torrent, stop it–” he stopped nuzzling my neck, “–and if he’s terrible, we could always release him or put him into the PC. But we should let him out now than wait too long. It’s closure. And you guys would know better than I do about how it feels to be trapped in there.”

Skyra shuddered. I threw the PEN past them.

The Manectric emerged, his clothes perfectly unwrinkled, silhouetted against the setting sun. His mouth twisted in a sneer.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, flicking some dust off his sleeve. “My name is Dianli. Yes, it’s a girly name. Get over it. I’m looking for my younger sister. Her name is Lana. She ran off like the stupid Electrike she is. If you haven’t seen her, fantastic. Let me go, or I’ll make it hell for you. But since I’m not currently brain-dead, I’m guessing you guys have a shred of decency and will send me on my way. Please and thank you.”

“Ah, shit,” I heard Torrent mutter behind me, and he pushed me behind him, getting up on one knee. I inhaled slowly, counting seconds to calm my accelerating heart.

“Lana is dead,” I said, and didn’t flinch when Dianli’s lightning gaze zeroed in on me. “When we first caught her, she was unwilling to come, but later, she agreed to stay on the team. She died during training. I know an apology won’t remotely make up for your loss, but I’m–” and here, I faltered, my voice breaking. “I’m very sorry.”

Silence. 

He cocked his head, his eyes still locked with mine. Was that anger I saw boiling under his skin? Sadness? 

“Who was training her? You?” he finally asked. I heard a faint crackling. 

“That person is dead, too.”

“Huh. Pity.” He breathed out and looked into the sky idly. When he looked down again, he smiled. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

The only warning I got was a slight tipping of his head before he lunged at me, electricity snapping in his palm. Tumbling to the left, I barely dodged the first thrust of his palm. The days of sparring practice kicked in, and my leg whipped out on a course for his chin. But before I could strike, Torrent grabbed his arm and Briar pulled me away, curling a protective arm around my waist.

“LET GO OF ME!” Dianli snarled, and the electricity moved to cover his entire body, lashing out like something alive. Skyra moved back with a glare from Briar. 

“TORRENT!” I shrieked, struggling in Briar’s grasp. Fear ricocheted in my veins. 

Please don’t let me lose him.

Please don’t let me lose him!

“No,” Torrent snapped, tightening his grip while the electricity ran up his arm. The Manectric rose from his crouch, the electricity intensifying. At his full height, he was taller than Torrent, taller than Briar, but Torrent stood, unafraid, the lighting burning everything but him.  

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

“You’ve been trying,” Torrent remarked, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m still here.”

“GIVE ME BACK MY SISTER!” Dianli howled. Torrent’s face softened. 

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that either. Are you going to stop now?”

Dianli merely answered with a punch to Torrent’s jaw, loosening his hold. He turned to me again, menacing, fast, but not before Torrent connected heel to face is a perfect spinning kick. A jet of water echoed his movement and crashed into Dianli’s stomach. 

“Aiden,” Torrent called, pinning the Manectric to the ground, “Light’s out!" 

A jet of flame instantly engulfed both of them, and when it let up, I twisted out of Briar’s grasp, grabbed the PEN, and recalled Dianli. 

"Torrent! Are you–" 

"Stay there!” he held his hands out in warning, and I stopped. “You’ll get burned, kitty cat. Stay there." 

Steadily, I gripped the PEN in my hand. 

"He hurt you,” I trembled.

“I’m okay, Lexa. Look at me, I’m fine. I’m a ground-type. I’m just stuck because the ground got gooey from the heat and lightning. Don’t want to get you burned. Stay there–" 

Aiden jumped in next to Torrent and started to free his feet, with little success. 

"Ah, sorry. This might hurt a bit." 

Before Torrent could protest, Aiden grabbed his waist and threw him with Strength, which ripped him out of the molten dirt and into safe ground. 

"I am just getting beaten up today, huh,” Torrent groaned from the ground, a hand on his back. I rushed over to him, and we both held our arms out to each other, an automatic gesture. I folded myself into his hug. “You’re going to get your dress dirty.”

“You’re so stupid! You’re so, so stupid,” I cried, holding onto his neck. His skin was still sooty and hot from the fire.

“I’m immune to electri–” He stopped when Briar crouched next to him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. 

“You’re an idiot,” the Breloom said, silkily, smiling. Torrent’s face turned crimson.

“I’m fucking immune to electricity, is no one listening to me?!”

“You almost died.” Briar’s hand didn’t leave his hair. 

“No. I didn’t. Let me clear this up for you guys. I’M. IMMUNE. TO. ELECTRICITY. YEAH. YOU KNOW THE IMPRESSIVE ZAPPY-SPARK THING THAT DIANLI DID? I’M FUCKING IMMUNE TO IT, YOU SHITTY MUSHROOM.”

“Huh. Well,” Briar leaned in and rubbed his forehead against Torrent’s, “good job, cupcake.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Torrent yelped, swiping at Briar’s face. “You know I fucking like you! Why are you making it harder–" 

There was a general sharp intake of breath as I slammed a hand over Torrent’s mouth. Every pair of eyes flickered to Briar’s green ones. 

"Hm?” Briar tilted his head. “I like you, too.”

Silence.

“Okay, so I sink like a rock in the water,” Aiden said incredulously, his palm firmly planted over his eyes, “and I STILL AM NOT THE FUCKING DENSEST PERSON HERE.”

“What?” Briar demanded, confused. 

Torrent shook off my hand.

“You guys didn’t notice until now?” Torrent demanded, “Don’t worry, he’s a fucking boulder.” Then, so that only I could hear it, he muttered, “That’s part of what makes him attractive.”

“You guys are assholes,” Briar fumed, not understanding.

I didn’t say anything, but simply hugged Torrent harder, remembering the day he had cried. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he had to hurt so much. 

“I see he grew up on the outside. Less so on the inside,” mused a familiar voice behind me. When I whirled around, I saw grey hair and jade eyes. 

“Steven?” I stood up, took Torrent’s hands, and leaned back with all my weight, pulling him to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for a convention of some sort,” he said, waving his hand vaguely, “but the electricity discharge attracted my attention.” He shifted his attention to Briar and Skyra. “I see you two evolved well. And traded tokens. That’s a very healthy wingspan, Skyra.”

“You’re as creepy as always, Steven,” she said bluntly.

Abruptly, her eyes widened and she rocketed away from the spot she had been standing, just in time for a figure to crash into the earth with a strength of a small meteorite. Dust blew everywhere, but Steven blocked most of it by stepping in front of me and pulling me to his front. He still smelled like cinnamon.

“Skarmory, the Armor Bird Piece,” GLaDOS recited. “Its body and wings are made of steel. People in the past used feathers fallen from Skarmory to make swords and knives. Statistically, you would last a fourth of a millisecond before she ripped your eyes out.”

“Oh, my God,” Steven breathed through gritted teeth, hands clenched. He strode up to the figure, who was clad in sleek, plated armor and a tapered helmet. “Bastion! How many times do I have to tell you  _not to crush other flying types_?” Slowly, metallic wings unfolded, clicking in smooth succession. Through two slits in the helmet, yellow eyes shone. “One day, one of them isn’t going to move fast enough, and you will kill someone.” A decidedly feminine laugh came floating out of the cold metal. 

“One day,” she said, agreeing. “Where is the girl?” She looked around and seeing me, started walking towards me. Torrent and Aiden immediately stood in front of me, protecting. Skyra swooped low, lazy circles in the orange sky, her blades already half-way out of the sheath, while Briar stood to the side, green eyes calculating. “Calm, children. I won’t hurt her.”

“You just tried to kill Skyra,” Briar commented.

“I knew she would move. And now, I need you two to move, or I may hurt you.”

“Bastion,” Steven warned. 

“As if you could kill us,” Torrent grinned. 

“Ah, such weak, naive children." 

The laugh again. 

All of them would fight to keep me safe, and then what? Would we win? Against an Ex-Champion of the Piece Keepers? His Pieces far out-leveled my own and if they fought, my entire team, my entire family would die. 

So instead, I stepped in front of them. 

"No, guys, it’s okay.”

Bastion held out a hand to me and I took it. She drew me off the ground, gently supporting me in her arms. Slitted eyes studied my face. 

“Stavros, look at her eyes,” she said and gingerly rested her helmet against my forehead. It felt cool. The yellow disappeared when she closed her eyes.  

“I’ve been looking, woman,” a voice said from the trees. I recognized the name and the lean body of the Metagross that swung down, his navy jacket snapping in the wind. At his appearance, Torrent relaxed completely. “Nice to see you again, boy, and in better circumstances, as well.”

“Yeah,” Torrent smiled, receiving a pat on the head, “Skyra, you remember–”

“–I do,” she interrupted, sheathing her katanas and dropping to the ground. “No reason to fight, then. Let’s get camp started. It’s going to be dark soon.” She flew off in a rush of wind. Briar melted into the forest, quickly followed by Torrent. Aiden started finding stones for a fire pit. 

I was transferred into Stavros’s arms, like a baby, and he spent a long time studying my face. 

“Dark eyes stay straight,” he murmured, “but light eyes change fate. Look at all the connecting lines, Steven. Can you see the red string?”

Steven sighed heavily. 

“Please no metaphors. Not now, Stavros.” Steven rubbed his temples, his forehead wrinkling. 

“Do you have a headache?”

He looked up at me and came closer when I beckoned. I put a hand on his head.

“Your forehead is hot. Are you sick?”

“Mm, maybe,” he brought my fingers to his mouth, the same gesture that Briar had shown Skyra, then to the pulse point of my wrist. I felt vaguely uncomfortable, having all three of them focus their attentions on me. 

“I can give her no greater power than she has already,” Stavros said, and I could see his lips move underneath his mask, “Don’t you see how strong that is? How men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has got through the world, barefooted as she is. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which–”

“–consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain the solution to the problems she faces, we can do nothing to help her.” Steven finished, smiling drily. 

“Isn’t that from a story?” I asked, confused. Power? I could barely do a pull-up.

“Yes, an old one, from your world.”

I fidgeted in Stavros’s arms. 

“Steven, you owe me dinner,” I reminded him.

“Hm,” Steven hummed. Stavros set me on my feet and fixed my bag strap, just as Briar would have done. Then, he and Bastion moved away, gliding into the approaching dark. “Would you like to come to the convention with me? They have an excellent dinner. You’d have to dress up, but we could go shopping before and still make it in time.”

“No, she would not like to go to the fucking convention with you,” Torrent muttered behind me, dumping firewood in a haphazard pile. Briar set his armful down more neatly. 

“Oh, come now, Torrent,” Steven said, “I don’t get to see her everyday.”

“It’s because you spend your "everyday” buried in caves, you crazy old man,“ Stavros drawled. 

"Stavros, so help me God, I will release you, you goddamn snarky bastard.”

“Are you camping here today?” I questioned.

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

“Can’t you Fly back to town and sleep there?”

“Well, yes, I could,” Steven smiled, and reached out to brush a palm over my cheek, “but your company seems more inviting.”

“A little girl?” Stavros said mockingly, “For shame, Steven.”

“We’ll kill you,” Briar and Skyra said carelessly. Aiden chuckled when Steven raised both his hands in an innocent gesture. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Steven smiled at Aiden. 

“Yeah, I’m Aiden. Hey.” They shook hands. 

“He’s a jumper,” commented Stavros, off-handedly. Steven’s eyes widened and Aiden flinched. 

“Hey, back off, Stavros,” I growled, making the Metagross turn is scarlet gaze on me. “He’s okay now.”

“So they all say–" 

Steven took two long strides over to Stavros and yanked his hair back. 

"I’m getting tired of your antics, Metagross,” he whispered, eyes burning. Stavros’s gaze dropped in instant submission.

“Yes, sir,” was the immediate response. “Sorry.”

Scary. 

That was the only thought I had in mind as Steven let go. How did one have that much influence over Pieces? It was never far from my mind that Torrent, even when he was tiny, could have easily killed me. 

“It’s love,” Steven filled in my thoughts when he glanced at my face. “It’s faith, that Stavros won’t lift me up and smash me into the wall. C-Keys are the Trainers for a reason. There is a reason why humans complete Pieces.”

“Ugh,” muttered Stavros, rolling his eyes, “I  _should_  just pick you up and smash you into a wall.”

***

I woke up quietly later in the night. Vague nightmares had filled my dreams, but not enough to send me into a panic-fueled attack. I saw Steven awake, the embers of the fire glowing on his face, highlighting the bridge of his sharp nose and the stones in his hand. When I shifted, he turned his head to me.

“You’re awake,” I murmured, wriggling out from under Torrent’s arm. 

“So are you." 

I crawled the short distance over to him and sat next to his warm side, yawning.

"Is it because you don’t have a sleeping bag?”

Steven laughed softly. 

“I’ve had to sleep on rocky ground many times in my journeys.” He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and leaning his head back to look at the sky. 

I studied the stones on his lap. They didn’t look that out of the ordinary, except a couple, which looks like gems embedded in rocks. 

“Why do you like stones so much?”

“My father taught me about stones. Mostly the valuable ones. Devon Corporations used to be in mining before we had enough resources to expand into technology. But I just loved them all. Stavaros didn’t help.” He laughed again. “I remember, when I was young, he tricked me into thinking I could eat rocks, because he could do it. So I tried, and lost a tooth. And he laughed his head off.” He quieted. “It’s one of the few good qualities of my father. One of the few good memories.”

“President Stone seems like a good person.”

“He’s not,” Steven responded shortly, flatly. 

“What about your brother?" 

"My father’s lapdog.”

“You seem like the rebellious child.”

“Hm.” Steven ran his free hand through my hair. “I suppose.”

“But you always seem so… like a gentleman? Soft-spoken and stuff. You should have a British accent. It would suit you.”

“A gentleman, huh?” Steven seemed to say more to himself than me. “A gentleman wouldn’t have such thoughts as I do.”

“What do you mean?”

He waved his hand and stubbed out the cigarette. Everything he said was always so confusing.

“Nothing. Are you going to invite me to bed?" 

I blushed and hoped that he couldn’t see it in the dim firelight. 

I snuggled up next to Torrent again, and Steven joined me this time, scooping up my head so that I was using his arm as a pillow. I felt warm, but not hot, as late May was still cool in this world.

"You smell like the ocean,” Steven whispered into my hair. His lips brushed my forehead, my cheek. I felt a familiar panic rising in my chest. He hummed against my jaw and placed light kisses down my neck. His free hand shifted to my hip when he lightly bit my collarbones. The panic ballooned and built before I yelped: 

“Ash, stop! I don’t like it!” He froze. “Steven,” I corrected. Something clicked coldly behind me and I looked up to see Torrent’s eyes narrowed, the gun pointed at Steven’s head. 

“You’re disgusting.” Torrent’s voice was frigid. Alarmed, I pushed the muzzle of his gun down. 

“No, it’s okay Torrent. I just forgot he wasn’t Ash. And Ash always stopped, so Steven will, too.”

“You don’t deserve her.”

“I know,” Steven answered.

“Guys–”

“She’s not your boyfriend, no matter how much you think so.”

“I’m trying, Torrent,” Steven sighed and the sound was heavy and heart-breaking.

“Torrent, stop,” I whimpered. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Instead of answering, Torrent wrapped an arm around me, securely holding me to the front of his chest. He didn’t say anything when Steven buried his head in the crook of my neck. 

My heart stopped beating a rapid drum line and I fell asleep. 


	17. Titantic

I wake Torrent up when I find it. 

 

I found them all sleeping together in a tight huddle, Baby Girl facing Torrent and Steven with his back turned to them. Skyra had already flown into the sky, stretching her wings. I went to shake Alexa out of her sleep and her hair slid away from the back of her neck and I felt my throat constrict. 

His eyes open immediately, and when my hands tighten around his shoulder, he sits up quietly, making sure not to wake her. Carefully, I push hair away so that the entirety of the scar is showing, the white, carefully cut letters almost invisible on the pale skin of her neck. 

M. I. N. E. 

In capital letters, someone claimed her as his own. Torrent’s eyes narrow in anger. I know what he’s thinking. He wants to maim the person who would dare do such a thing. 

But who is this person?

Let’s see.

The scar is at least four years old, inferring by how much it has healed. This rules out anyone we’ve met in this world. Judging by the fact that Baby Girl never touches it or mentioned it, she’s forgotten about it, implying that she was either too young to remember, or repressed the memory. The letters look clean - knife cut? No. Cleaner. Scalpel? Maybe. Something else about it being clean. There was no struggle, or else it would be jagged. Drugged? Maybe. Or someone she trusted did this. Perhaps both. 

Torrent shoots a dirty look at Steven, but I shake my head ever so slightly. His eyebrows contract, still angry. Something must have happened yesterday to make him this displeased. Well, Steven is creepy; anything could have happened. 

Come on, Briar. Back to the scar. 

Not big at all. An inch high and two inches wide. Now about the words themselves. MINE. Not in lowercase, but in uppercase. A declarative statement. Not meant to be pretty, but meant to be almost a warning. A do-not-touch sign. Someone who was possessive, but not so much sadistic. This wouldn’t hurt too much.  

Options, options. 

Friend? She had none. Someone she didn’t know? Just someone who plucked her off the street and gouged the word into her? Maybe, highly unlikely though. Relative? Family tree is mother, distant father, grandfather, and brother. 

And that’s where I stop. I don’t have enough information. I know don’t know the characters of the mother, father, or grandfather. 

Then again, maybe brother. 

“Interesting.”

I glance up to see Stavros crouching behind us. 

“Very interesting,” he whispers, continuing. “Where have I seen that before?” His index finger hooks the bottom of Steven’s casual t-shirt and drags it up to show a muscled back. And there it is. Torrent breathes out a hiss.

MINE. 

But it looks different. This one is bigger, jagged, stretching across his shoulder blades in abandon. No scalpel this time. No precision. Someone who was, once again, possessive. But this time, sadistic. 

Stavros lets out a very strange chuckle when he pulls the shirt back down. 

“Just between us three, okay?” he smiles, putting a finger to his lips. Eyes glow red. “I wasn’t supposed to show you guys, but you little ones are just too cute. Oh, and payment,” he leans in and I don’t move away when he kisses me solidly on my mouth. 

Suddenly, his voice fills my mind and I close my eyes. 

“If you want to keep her safe, I suggest you don’t tell her. Or Steven. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.” Stavros’s red-tinted voice recedes with his lips. I resist the urge to spit the taste of metal out of my mouth. With one careless hand, he catches Torrent’s outraged punch. “Let’s not forget the level difference between us, shall we?” he says and walks off, laughing that strange laugh. 

“Fuck, Briar, Skyra’s already your compass,” Torrent mutters, running a hand through his hair, “that wasn’t cool. You’re already promised.”

“Don’t tell Alexa.”

“What? Why would I tell Lexa about your relationship problems?”

“Because you tell her everything. But no, I mean about the scars.”

“What?!”

“Steven might get angry,” I lie, “And he’s valuable, since he’s pretty high up on the social ladder.” Not a lie. 

“That’s a weak excuse.”

“But you won’t tell. Because you trust me.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles. And I ruffle his hair, because I can’t help it. He’s my best friend and I love him fiercely. 

Just, not in the way he loves me. 

When I pull away my hand, he’s pink around the ears. Only slightly though. 

“Wake them up. It’s sunrise.”

I always like watching Torrent wake her up. Anybody who thinks he’s obnoxious, who thinks he’s heartless or insensitive only needs to watch him wake up Alexa. 

“Lexa?” he smooths the hair away from her forehead and kisses it. “Lexa, time to wake up.” There isn’t a trace of his loud personality in his movements. He wakes her up gently, eases her out of sleep. “Lexa, something about the way,” he sings softly. He has a surprisingly good voice, “it’s something about the way you look in my eyes / You make everything so damn easy / so easy that I don’t got to worry about a thing.” Steven wakes up first, rubbing his face and listening. Torrent doesn’t notice. Or care. “And Lexa, when we touch / all I can see is the image of us / sitting by the ocean just before the dusk / sipping on a juice box with sand between our toes.” She makes little noises of protest as Torrent cradles her to his chest. “And this is the part where we say we’re in love / and the part where we say it’s forever / But this ain’t a fantasy, I know you can’t come with me.” He kisses her again on her nose, rubbing his forehead with hers. “You got your life / He better be treating you right.”

It’s aways like this. 

Every morning he wakes her, he steeps the sunrise in a song.

***

“Hell, no,” Torrent deadpans, “She is not wearing anything that dips that low.” Huge, glass windows line the front of the store, outlining the beautiful mountains that circle Fallarbor, as well as the gentle soot that falls constantly, feeding the soil. “And what kind of place is this anyway? I’ve never seen a store so big that sells just clothes.”

“Well, Fallarbor holds a lot of conventions, so a lot of the wealthy gather here. You’ll see a lot of luxury shops and such,” Bastion comments, motioning for the helper to get another dress. He grits his teeth, angry that a Piece is ordering him around, but complies with one look at Steven. 

“I guess you’ve been here often,” Aiden says.

“Often enough.”

Behind us, Baby Girl talks with Steven, recounting past events. Skyra soars outside, racing the wind. 

“I didn’t know Steven was  _this_  rich,” Aiden mutters, looking at the price tag of the next dress. “But anyway, what about this one, Torrent?”

“I’d rather she just not go,” he groans in answer, frustratedly raking a hand through his hair, “but that one’s not that bad, I guess. Hey! Lexa!” She turns. “Try this one!”

And really, it’s not bad. The dress ends right above her knees in a waterfall of black ruffles and lace. Sheer material gently clings to her shoulders and collarbones. 

“You look…”

“–young,” Torrent finishes, grinning. “And really cute.” She blushes, hiding her face in his shirt. “I can’t wait to see the food they have–”

“–negative,” Bastion interrupts, stopping Torrent. “Pieces who aren’t captured in PALs aren’t allowed. People would freak out. So you would have to dress up as a human, child. And I don’t think you would like wearing a suit.”

Torrent frowns.

“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t like wearing a suit, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it to go with Lexa.”

“Also, your personality doesn’t suit these kind of events. You’d just end up making everybody very angry. If anybody should go, I think Briar should.” I feel her eyes focus on me, glittering through the narrow crevices in her helmet. “Just my opinion, children.”

“She’s right,” Stavros says, walking up to us. He’s stripped of his usual clothes and is wearing formal attire, with his hair gelled back. He removes his mask to reveal very white teeth and a small scar that vertically slashes his lips. “But don’t worry, you’re not missing much. It’s fucking boring as fuck.”

“Wow,” Alexa’s eyes shine in an unspoken compliment. “Wow.”

“Thanks, little lady,” he smiles with a cockiness I know is easy for him. I remember his mouth tastes like a blade. His scar makes more sense now. “I’m sure Briar will be just as hot.”

I let myself be led to the changing room and put on whatever is handed to me. When I step out, Alexa runs to me. I scoop her up and hold her while she nuzzles against my dark suit jacket.

“So cute,” she mumbles. I roll my eyes. 

When we step outside, Skyra dive bombs me and I get a sort of thrill, watching her stop right before she hits me. She could kill me easily, but she never does.

“Going alone,” I say.

A rush of emotions cross her face. Surprise, disappointment, amusement, pity, and a carefully neutralness, in that order. 

“Okay,” she says, fingering my collar, “You look nice though. You should take off the cuff, maybe,” she points at her bandana wrapped around my wrist.

“I don’t think so.” I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ears. “Give me a kiss.” She does and I feel my brain go numb with giddiness. “Another,” I whisper when she pulls away, her mouth tasting like fennel. She blushes and pushes my face away, turning to Alexa.

“Be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Alexa responds. “Bastion, are you gonna stay with them?”

“Most likely.”

“Then, can you help them ask what Dianli wants?” She twists her hands in front of her. “I don’t want him hurting anyone if he comes out. But if he wants to be released, I need his consent, too. And you’re a lot higher in level.”

Not a bad idea.

“I would be my honor, child. Have fun." 

***

When we enter the building, I have to push her slightly to keep her moving. 

The banquet hall is enormous. A chocolate fountain sits in the middle, while the rest of the room radiates outwards in a perfect circle of luxury and refreshments. There are clusters of tables on the outer edge of the room where the lighting is dim and candles placed on dasmak tablecloths cast a glow over the people seated. Closer to the inside is a circular dance floor where more people seem to be socializing with tiny glasses of champagne in their hand than dancing. Opulent couches sprawl in strategic locations, offering seating for those invested in card games. All throughout, waiters and Pieces move, offering beverages and hors d'oeuvre. 

"Steven!” she squeaks and clutches onto his hand. He looks down, surprised, and then back up at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t what I was expecting! Why are there so many–”

She’s interrupted by a butler that approaches with a microphone in hand.

“Good evening, Dr. Stone. How may I introduce your company?”

“As Dr. Stavros and guests, Farren. Thank you.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” He holds the microphone to his mouth. “Introducing Dr. Stone, Dr. Stavros, and guests.” His voice, amplified over the speakers, still isn’t very loud, but the buzzing in the room doubles. 

“Ah, I forget you aren’t used to this kind of thing,” Steven says with one look at Alexa’s face.

“It’s just people, Baby Girl,” I whisper into her ear.

“You wanna know a trick?” Stavros asks, descending the stairs. Alexa nods. “Okay, little girl. Shoulders back, head up, and think  _murder_ ,” he hisses the last word, and walks down with a cocky smile on his face. 

We follow, Alexa tightly gripping both our hands. 

“Dr. Stone!” We’re greeted by a group of women. The leader seems to be a tall redhead with a light sprinkling of freckles. Her dress shimmers emerald. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming today! I’m so glad to see you!”

“As am I, Claire. How are you and the ladies today?”

“Fine, fine! I see Dr. Stavros looks as handsome as ever.” When Stavros hears his name, he looks up, winks, and turns back to his own conversation. “And who might this be?”

“Ah, this is Briar. We traveled on Victory Road together for a bit, he and I.”

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” I say calmly, shaking her hand. No title. I called her by her first name, just as Steven had, implying that my social status was above hers. It must have worked, because the other members of the group suddenly eye me with newfound interest. 

“Well, Briar,” she says, “I wonder if you brought a date tonight? If you didn’t…” she trails off, gesturing at the girls behind her. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m already taken.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” She focuses her attention on Alexa. “And what about you?” Her voice is sweet and motherly. “Honey, what’s your name?”

“Alexa,” she says in a small voice.

“Well, aren’t you the cutest thing? Is this your date, Dr. Stone?”

Steven coughs, covering his mouth with a fist. The barest tint of pink brushes his nose.

“Oh, you rascal!” Claire laughs, and the women behind her laugh, like a single entity. “Well, Dr. Stone, we don’t want to take up too much of your time. We’ll see you later!”

“Am I your date?” she asks quietly when they walk off.

“Ah, somewhat,” Steven murmurs, guiding her through the crowd. “Does it bother you?”

She shrugs. 

“I’ve just never been on a date before.” She turns a shade of rose. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling.”

“Just enjoy yourself. The food, if anything, is divine.” He pulls out a chair to a table and pushes it in when she sits. “Besides, the safest position is to be my date.” He slips a ring off his finger, the one that looks like a many sided die, and slips it on her thumb. “I need to go socialize. It’s almost mandatory in this setting. The waiter will come soon. Show him the ring and order whatever you want. I’ll send Stavros to check on you. Remember, you don’t have to answer any question you don’t want to.” He turns to me. “Can I kiss her cheek?” he asks, with a glance at the people whispering around us. “People need proof. They won’t bother her after." 

"Why are you asking me?” I yawn, taking a drink of water. 

“Is it okay?” When she nods, he kisses her cheek chastely. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart." 

He strides off into the crowd. 

"We can leave if you want,” I say immediately. 

“But food,” she says, as if it’s a well thought-out, insurmountable counter-argument. “And it’s not that bad.” She leans on my shoulder, holding my hand. “We haven’t talked like this in a while. Just us two.”

“That’s true,” I agree.

“Are you happy with Skyra?”

“Very.”

“What about her makes you happy?”

I close my eyes, thinking. 

“Her courage. But that’s such a general answer. I guess, although she has all types of courage, it’s her moral courage that appeals to me the most. I like how she thinks in circles and how she values my opinion, as if she needs my linearity to straighten her thoughts out. I like the way her hands twitch when she sleeps.” I open my eyes. “It’s an infinite list.”

“Torrent likes you.”

In the face of such intense scrutiny, I realize can’t lie to her.

“I know.”

“I knew it,” she whispers. “You should tell him.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Pretending you don’t know is hurting him more, I think.”

“I couldn’t bear the look on his face if I tell him that I love him, but I’m not in love with him. I’m hoping he just moves on one day.”

“That’s cruel.”

“I am cruel.”

“That’s not true. You’re a nice person.”

“Being a nice person doesn’t mean I’m not cruel.” She thinks about that for a moment. The waiter comes and places a menu in front of us. I tap at the ring and order two apples juices. 

“Anyway, I think you should tell him.”

“Did you have friends after Ash died?” I ask, changing the subject. 

She glares at me for the attempt, but starts to speak anyway.

“Maybe a couple. They were more like acquaintances. There was a girl named Rhea I met during counseling. She was really nice and we both thought that crayons should taste like the appropriate flavors. But nobody else other than her.”

There is a lull when our apple juices comes. I hand the menu to the waiter and ask him for a ten-course meal with whatever the chef recommends. I mention that the cost is no problem and he scurries off. 

“Do you think Steven will get mad?”

“No, I don’t think so. Steven is wealthy.”

“I didn’t know he was a doctor. What kind of doctor do you think he is?”

“I think he’s a human doctor.”

“I don’t really know much about Steven, I guess.”

“I thought you text him a lot.”

“I do, but he mostly texts me poetry from different authors and I critique. Or he sends me pictures of really pretty stones. Anyway, I think I text Brendan more.”

“Yeah? What do you guys talk about?”

“A lot of things. Everything. He texts me good morning everyday. We play question for question. So he asks me something and then I ask him something. I know a lot about him now, I think. His favorite color and his hopes and if he thinks he’ll ever get rid of his hatred for his mom and how his team is doing and if he’s ever had any girlfriends and what his newest paper on psychology is on and whether it was published or not. We talk about a lot of things. He tells me a lot of funny stories about when he was little. Like one time, his father was working in the field and got cornered by a little Zigzagoon and let out the girliest scream ever.” She chuckles, stretching out her arms on the table like a little cat. The waiter comes with our first course, tomato bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and raw oysters with cocktail sauce. “And every night, he says goodnight and that he’s sorry.”

“What is he sorry for?”

“For making me mad last time. For instigating me. For manipulating.” She bites her lip. “A week ago, he started saying ‘I love you’ every night. But…” she turns to me, looking helpless, “…but I can’t feel anything except a really numb feeling in my chest. It’s like when Steven kissed my neck yesterday.” I quickly put down my glass before I shatter it. “I don’t feel happy or sad. I just feel scared and numb. Is that bad? Am I a bad person?”

“No,” I say softly, running a thumb over her knuckles. She doesn’t look reassured but reaches out and plucks a bruschetta off the plate. 

“Anyway, he hasn’t texted in awhile. He asked me if I was okay. And then he said sorry and just stopped responding… This is good, Briar,” she says, surprise on her face when she bites into it.

“Good. Eat and brag to Torrent.”

We eat, and when I’ve finished the last oyster, the waiter appears, taking away the plates and putting down two soups, consommé olga and cream of barley.

“Yuck,” she says, tasting the barley. I end up eating both her bowls of barley while she drinks both the bowls of consommé olga. 

“Do you love your mom?” I ask when the waiter brings poached salmon with mousseline sauce and cucumbers.

“Yeah. A whole lot.”

“Who do you love more, Ash or your mom?”

“Ash.” She stops eating, frowning. “And I know it’s not good that I say that without hesitation.”

“What do you like about your mom?”

“She’s an artist and was always kind of busy, but she would always hug me when I came home from school and always hug Ash, even when he was mad. She always set a plate for dad on the table and she smelled like really tasty bread. She’s a really nice person. She kissed me a lot and we cuddled and watched movies when I was sick and Ash had to go to school.”

Filet mignons lili, sauté of chicken with lyonnaise, and vegetable marrow farci is set before us. Suddenly, Stravos walks to our table, spears a chicken from her plate, and walks away with it, ripping it apart with his teeth. He’s trailed my young, giggling women.

“What did you like about Ash?”

At this, she smiles.

“So many things! I remember, when I was really little, he was the one that showed me how to ride a bike. And he would sit with me at the kitchen table and teach me math because I didn’t get it. I remember it so clearly. He borrowed mom’s headband to push back his hair because it was getting long. And one day, when I was at kindergarden, he shouted at the boys who were bullying me and they never did again. He also taught me self-defense after that and when I caught up to him, we learned together. It’s just…” She looked lost in thought. “After he turned twelve, he started to get weird. He would still help me with homework, but sometimes, he would start hitting me with a ruler if I didn’t get the problem fast enough. And he would start telling me that I couldn’t go to places with my friends. Mom said he was going through puberty.”

“Were you scared of him?”

“I think the first time I actually was scared of him was a really calm afternoon. We were playing Pokémon next to each other when all of a sudden he said that they should be dead. And I asked him who and he said that the Pokémon should be dead and that it didn’t make sense for them to be alive and he wished he could kill them all. After that, he got a lot scarier and he made a lot more rules.” Her voice dropped. “He hit mom once.”

I itch to ask her about the scar, but I don’t want to risk her safety, whatever that may entail. 

Steven takes a seat just as the fifth course is being served: lamb with mint sauce, roast duckling with apple sauce, sirloin of beef with chateau potatoes, green peas, creamed carrots, boiled rice, and parmentier with boiled new potatoes.

“Will you be joining them, Dr. Stone?”

“Yes, but I’ll join with the next course, thank you.”

“What kind of doctor are you, Steven?”

“A neurosurgeon and general internist.”

“Did you go to medical school for that?” she asks around a mouth of potatoes. 

“Ah, well, there is no medical school here. It’s more of an immediate and prolonged residency,” he answers, stealing a bite of lamb. “I didn’t expect so many people to be here today. Sorry it took so long.”

“It’s okay,” she says, swinging her legs. “I got to talk with Briar.”

“What do you even talk about with people here?” I question.

“It’s mostly strengthening business connections. And a role call. It’s important to be present at these type of events.”

“I thought you weren’t a daddy’s boy.”

“I’m not,” he says, taking a sip of my apple juice, “but it doesn’t hurt that I’m building my network to be far vaster than my father’s. Connections are important.”

“That’s why we still let you hang with us,” Alexa says, busily stuffing her mouth with sirloin. 

“Ouch,” Steven grins, “I see you went all out on my bank account." 

"It’s tasty,” she counters. “And you’re rich.”

“Very well put.”

“How do I become a better trainer?” she asks abruptly. 

The question startles him enough to make him put down his glass and look at her carefully. 

“Why do you want to know?”

“I think it may be because I’m a trainer,” she responds, her voice thick with sarcasm. 

He grins.

“So you learned how to be a sarcastic little shit, huh?” The profanity sounds so strange coming from his mouth that I can’t help the laugh that escapes my mouth. “How to be a good trainer… Do you exercise?”

“I can do two pull-ups now,” she boasts, making his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Alright. Well, training your body is really important. You can’t have your arms and legs fail you when you need them the most. Also, decision making is important. Pieces have valuable insight, but many of them can only think analytically or emotionally. Their brains are wired that way. It’s up to you to combine those together and and make the best decisions.” He pauses, and then starts again. “Always cry after a death. Never promise that no one else will die.” I remember the promise she had made me and thinking it was ridiculous that she would guarantee that no one else would fall. She lightly squeezes my hand; I know she remembers, too.

“Do you have training tips?”

“I don’t think… oh! Don’t EV train. There’s no such thing as EV training here, so you would just be wasting your time. Poison isn’t step by step here, like it is in the games. It’s time and level dependent. Also, always make sure that your Pieces are strong enough to take at least one critical hit. Because that’s all it takes. Just one." 

The waiter brings glittering glasses of punch romaine.

"No, no, no, no, no,” Steven says when she reaches for a glass, pushing her hand away. “Why is the chef serving alcohol to you?”

“But it looks tasty,” she whines. 

“No. Give me that.” With one toss of his head, he drains it to the dregs. “Dessert will be good. So don’t drink this. How old are you Briar?”

“Twenty-six in human years, twenty-five in Piece years.” I take the glass from him and sip it slowly. It tastes like oranges. He starts on the second glass.

“What does it taste like?” Curious fingers reach over the edge of my cup. 

“Oranges. Just a sip, okay?" 

She takes a small sip. 

"Mm!” She licks her lips. “Tastes good!”

“Good evening, Steven Stone,” a familiar voice calls. Wynne Arabella Ethel Lytton smiles back at us. Steven looks up from his glass and nods. 

“Wynne. What a surprise." 

"Indeed. I didn’t expect to see you here, Dr. Stone.”

“That’s what everybody seems to be saying.” Steven takes a gulp of his drink.

She looks at Alexa.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Alexa responds, holding her head up. Her blue eyes crackle with pride. 

“I take it you didn’t consider what I said last time.”

“I considered,” Alexa says carefully. 

Wynne looks at her apple juice.

“Oh, you’re too young to drink? What a pity.”

“The only people who hold the privilege of drink over others,” Steven says quietly, “are brats and drunkards.”

She doesn’t exactly flush, but her pupils constrict and her face looks vaguely embarrassed. 

“My father wants–”

“–I just talked to your father, Wynne. He doesn’t need anything.”

“Why don’t you come sit at our table, Dr. Stone?”

“Because I’m enjoying dinner with my date and my friend.”

Silence.

“But I want you to,” Wynne says in a low voice. And then almost as an afterthought, “And my father will be displeased.”

“Oh,  _grow up_ , Wynne,” Steven growls. “You’re a twenty-one year old woman who still uses her  _father_  as leverage. No, he will  _not_  be displeased, because we just finished talking about this. I have said no multiple times on many different occasions. I ask you to respect my decision. Even when I was dating Red, you continued to ask.”

“That was never made public,” she responds frigidly. Steven snorts. “So why her, then?” she demands, crossing her arms. “Why is she your date?”

“Well, she’s sane, for one thing,” I mutter into my cup. Steven chokes on his drink. 

“She’s pretty,” Steven ticks off on his fingers after clearing his throat, “She’s not smart, but she’s intelligent. She isn’t afraid to critique my poems without thought to my feelings.”

It’s Alexa’s turn to choke on her drink and I can barely repress my laughter. 

“I don’t know, Wynne,” Steven’s voice softens. “You can’t categorize emotions like that. You can’t depend on a list of qualifications to govern who you love.”

The waiter sidles up and puts down the next course of roasted squab and watercress. He feels the tension in the air, hesitates, then looks at Steven.

“Will Miss Lytton be joining?”

“No, she won’t,” Steven responds, turning back to his cup. “Go back to your father, Wynne. Remind him that his son misses him.”

To her credit, she holds her head high all the way back to her father’s table, back rigid with dignity. 

“That was terrible of you,” I comment.

“She’s asked me nineteen times. Until what point do I have to keep up the facade that I care?”

“I wonder.” The rum in the drink swirls with the orange.

“I don’t know,” Alexa muses, “I would cry if Torrent wrote me off like that. Maybe you should apologize to her.”

“Why apologize when I’m not sorry?”

“Maybe you should be sorry.”

“Maybe.”

We’re silent through the the remainder of this course and well into the next of cold asparagus vinaigrette. Alexa makes a face and pushes the plate towards me. 

“I didn’t know those were your poems,” she finally says, uneasily. “I thought they were someone else’s, so I just told you what I thought.”

“I’m sure you would have told me what you thought even if you knew they were mine.”

“Are you published?”

“Yes.”

“Are you well-known?”

“Fairly.”

“Just fairly?”

“Maybe more than fairly.”

“I think Brendan quoted your poem before.”

“Brendan? Brendan Birch? Professor Birch’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew him.”

“He was there when I came through the closet from my world. And we text a lot.”

“Hm. Do you enjoy talking with him?”

“Yeah. Although he hasn’t responded in a while.”

“So he would be my so-called rival,” Steven mutters to himself. “What a terrible plot.”

“What?” she asks, confused.

I snicker. 

“Hm,” Steven looks at me with turquoise eyes. “You would be a very good friend if I met you earlier.”

“It’s never to late to start,” I counter. 

Stavros plunks himself down on a seat next to Steven. 

“Can you imagine,” he says, helping himself to the newly arrived pate de foie gras and celery, “what would happen if all these woman knew I was a Piece?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Stavros,” Steven remarks. 

“I won’t. I just think it would be hilarious. I bet at least one would vomit from fright. And a ten-course meal, Briar?” he grins, exposing a white flash of teeth, “How extravagant.”

“It’s just dessert after this,” Alexa responds. “I’ve been counting.”

“Have you, little lady? Anyway, I need to go. The ladies beckon. Give me a kiss, Steven,” and before he can protest, Stavros grabs his face and kisses him, running a tongue along his bottom lip. Steven immediately wipes his mouth with a napkin. “You too, little lady.” Her kiss is much more decent, bordering on innocent. “Ciao.”

“Steven, your Pieces are weirdos,” Alexa continues to eat, “just like you.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Steven inquires, still wiping his mouth. 

“Is it supposed to? It’s just like family, right?”

Steven glances at me. I sigh and in one movement, cover her ears. She starts in surprise. 

“It’s hard to find the full limitations and boundaries of what physical contact she allows when family is involved, but it seems almost up to and including pseduo-sexual activities. I think we all know who’s to blame for that. But because of that person, she has no defined standard of a relationship besides familial ones, which makes all actions committed by non-family members uncomfortable. On the other hand, significant friends are included as family, which is the reason that our entire team can be so friendly with her. In this case, she most definitely considers Stavros to be family since she allowed him to kiss her. You must also be family, because kissing her on the cheek doesn’t elicit a negative response from her. On the other hand, what you did yesterday,” here, I stop my rapid discourse to glare at Steven, “can be taken as past the point of pseudo-sexuality and into the waters of sexuality, which she is uncomfortable with, also because of that person.”

She twists out of my grip, scowling. 

“I hate it when you do that,” she snarls. 

“Sorry, Baby Girl. Grown-ups needed to talk.”

Steven nods and leans back. 

“You’re ridiculously clever, aren’t you?”

I shrug. 

“Not really. I think analytically, as you said before. I don’t really do morals.”

Dessert comes. Waldorf pudding, peaches in chartreuse jelly, chocolate and vanilla eclairs, and ice cream. She just takes the ice cream and one eclair. 

***

We leave early, much to the disappointment of many people. 

“Are you drunk, Steven?” she asks when we step into the night, as he had been ordering one alcoholic beverage after another. 

“Maybe a little.” He smiles when she slips her hand into his. “Did you have a good time?”

“Food is always a good time. Torrent’s going to be so jealous.”

The walk to the Piece Center is quiet. Somewhere in the mountains, a wild Piece howls in undulating ribbons of sound. Stavros enters the building immediately, but Steven sits on the grass outside. 

“Look,” Steven says, pointing at the sky. It is littered with shining points of light, that pulse to their own music. “Sometimes, the entire night sky is captured in a stone that fits in the palm of your hand.”

“You’re drunk.” Alexa sits next to him. 

“Maybe a little,” he repeats, pulling out a cigarette. He offers one to me, and I take it. 

“Isn’t that bad for you, Briar?”

“My body will flush it out almost immediately. Don’t worry.”

My thoughts are fixated on the scar that connects both of them together. Steven says he doesn’t know Alexa’s older brother. 

Then again, Steven is a liar. 

She shifts so that her head is in his lap, raven hair spilling over small shoulders. His hand hesitates, and then drops on her head, tracing the lines of her hair. 

“A little cat,” I whisper, and Steven smiles, smoke spilling into the sky.


	18. Short

_Stop. Stop. Stop. No, it’s too dark. Torrent? Torrent’s sleeping. Stop, it’s dark. Can I make a little light? Please! Just a little one. No, you can’t. You tried and you burned everyone. Everyone died. It’s such a small room. If I make a little light, maybe it will be okay. Right? Just a little one. No! You might set the room on fire! Everyone is sleeping! Every one will die._

 

It’s always a mess inside my head. I always feel like every breath I take is an argument to my own body. My mama used to tell me that once you get caught by a C-Key, you know right and wrong. That’s what separates us from the animals. But I wish I didn’t know good and bad. I just wish I knew one of them, because my head is always so very loud. I hate it. 

Usually, at night, Torrent sits up when he sees I’m not sleeping. I think he’s the backbone of the team, yup. Even more so than Lexa, but he’d kill me if I told him that. And I don’t wanna die anymore. 

Torrent would get up and walk over to me and settle beside me with this huge sigh that says that I’m clearly a burden to him. But I know I’m not, because he saved me. He saved my life. And he would tap my forehead and I’d nod. And then he’d talk, quietly, though, so no one else would wake up. It quiets the voices. But he’s never going to sing for me ever. 

That’s only for Lexa. 

But Torrent’s sleeping now, because he’s tired from today. Really tired, bone-tired. I can’t count the number of time he got zapped from Dianli. 

_It’s my fault. If I had just told them it didn’t matter to kill him or if I just told them to let him go without telling him. Why do I have to be like this? Why? But if you did that, it also wouldn’t have been fair to him! I wouldn’t because he would have died and nobody wants to die._

The door opens and I see Alexa, Briar, and Steven walk in. I shut my eyes fast so that they can’t see me awake. I hear Briar kiss her on the forehead and walk to the far end of the room. Skyra doesn’t wake up when he gets into bed with her. She sleeps like the dead.  

The bed across from me dips when Steven and Alexa sit down, and I open my eyes a little. I must have opened them too much, because she calls my name with a question mark at the end.

“I’m awake,” I say back. 

“Did you guys talk to Dianli?”

“Yeah, but, every time we released him, he would just electrocute everything. Torrent made Skyra stay back though, so it was okay. And Bastion is flying type, but she might has well been made of stone because the electricity didn’t even singe her. What level is your team?”

“They’re…” Steven rubs the back of his neck with a hesitant hand, “…a certain level… I think I stopped checking after a certain point.”

“I’m slightly jealous,” Alexa mutters, “just a little bit. Anyway, so you couldn’t tell him anything?”

“Yeah. He was too wild. We couldn’t even get consent for a release because he just said he would get his revenge. That he needed to stay on the team and make it hell for you. We might just have to stick him in the PC Box. But did you have fun?" 

"Yes! There was a lot of food. I was hoping Torrent would be awake so I could rub it in his face–”

“Just one more thing,” I interrupted, “We caught a new team mate." 

"What - what? Oh! Where is he? Or she?”

“Her name is Skye. She’s a Swablu and she’s in her PEN. She’s… a handful. Skyra got mad and says no one is allowed to let her out tonight." 

"What? What did she do?”

“We’re… also not allowed to tell you that,” I suppress a laugh at the memory of Skye calling Skyra ‘Mommy’ and clinging to her closely. “It was cute, but Skyra’s pissed.”

“Not fair,” Alexa pouts. “I guess I’ll meet her tomorrow then.” She turns to Steven, “Are we gonna sleep together?" 

She can’t see his face in the dark. But I can just barely see the pained look that crosses his face.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says gently. 

“Why not?”

“Torrent was very firm about it." 

"But then what if you get a nightmare?” A pleading tone creeps into her voice, “And Torrent can sleep between us, right?" 

He reaches a hand to her, then stops. 

"I drank a lot today, Alexandra. It’s probably better I sleep alone.” He completes the motion, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says, and Alexa makes a sound of protest. 

“But that’s so soon. We just saw each other." 

"I know.” His hands play with the ring on her thumb. “But I need to talk with Wallace, at Ever Grande. And you need to continue to Meteor Falls. It’s beautiful there, and when you have the Surf HM, you can travel a bit more.”

“Why is this world and the video game so similar? I mean, there’s you, and Brendan and most of the gym leaders are the same and stuff.”

“Because Pokémon Emerald is directly based on this world. The maker of the Pokémon games frequently came to this dimension after we established the link. It was a very small request to let his storyline follow our "storyline”. 

“Steven. The trainer, two years before me. Was he my brother?”

The question is abrupt, but her thoughts always travel this way. Disconnected. 

“No.” There is no hesitation in his voice.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

“Steven,” she grabs is collar with the desperation of the drowning. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

“Then tell me about your boyfriend. Tell me what he was like.”

Silence. Then slowly, he cups her face with one hand and leans forward. 

“My, my Alexandra. Are you seducing me?” he drawls, an unfamiliar, biting edge to his voice. She lets go immediately and my eyes flicker to him.

“No,” her voice is small. 

“Oh?” he leans in closer, lips pulled back in a grin, “You sound like you are. Maybe you should stop asking about my boyfriend, then?”

“Leave her alone,” I snarl, and I can feel the anger rising, dangerous, evil. His cool eyes meet mine. 

 _Get yourself under control, you freak. Are you kidding me? He’s not even doing anything_.

But I can feel it, the same rage that makes my eyes and skin glow. I move out of the bed and grab his wrist, making him wince at the heat. But he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he stands, a couple inches taller than me. And more than his height, I feel his presence standing over me like a statue of a god, like the pressure of religion. 

I want to crush it and watch the ashes shift through my fingers.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my back and the slight hiss of steam. 

“Cool it,” Torrent say behind me, his hand cold against my shirt. He steps in front of me, his back pressed to my front and more steam curls up. “Let go, Aiden." 

_What the fuck, don’t let him go. He deserves to get burned! Did you see how he treated your C-Key? Kill him!_

I let go. He immediately twines his fingers into mine, icy-cold, chilling the golden, overheated blood that courses just under my skin.

"Calm down, you giant excuse for a volcano.”

“Better a volcano than a puddle,” I mutter, resting my hot forehead against his shoulder with another hiss of steam. There is no amusement in my voice, but he chuckles anyway.

“Ah, I thought you were sleeping,” Steven says apathetically. I wait for Torrent to say something acidic, to jump into protecting Lexa. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at Steven. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he says softly, drawing Alexa closer to him. “And I know you think it’s right. But this is not the best way to go about it. This is painful. To both of you." 

Steven flinches at that, more than when I gripped his wrist. 

"Heeheeheehee.”

An unnaturally high giggle spills from Alexa’s mouth, tainting the air like spilled ink. Steven’s head turns so fast, I can hear a sharp crack and Alexa giggles again, hand wrapped into Torrent’s shirt.

_Her eyes are glowing. Humans can’t do that. Humans can’t fucking do that. Why are her eyes glowing? Why is she smiling like that?_

“Ah, Steven, you never used to fight over me like this,” she says. Her hand moves out fluidly, loosening his necktie and pulling him closer. “Why her? Let’s not forget who owns you, hm?”

“Alexa?” Torrent calls, voice breaking in worry. He turns her gently towards him, “Alexa, what’s wrong?”

But what I notice, is Steven’s face, deathly pale. His hands shake when he removes Alexa’s hand from his necktie. 

“Stavros,” he whispers. “Come here.”

She ignores Torrent completely, but holds Steven’s shaking arm.

“Did you forget what you were supposed to do?”

She moves forward and he steps back, until he is sitting on the bed, leaning away. 

“Alexa?" 

She looks at me with distaste. 

"Quiet. I’m talking,” she snaps at me. “Now, Steven. Remember what–" 

Stavros opens the door quietly and slips in. He crosses the room in large strides and then, roughly taking her face in his hands, slams his mouth to hers. 

Torrent doesn’t step in. Neither do I. I think we can both feel the necessity of this action when she goes limp, falling into Stavros’s arms. 

"You’re still loyal to me, right?” she whispers. Her eyes slowly close.

“Yes,” Steven breathes. “I will remember you.”


	19. Glass Palaces

My C-Key is weird. Super weird. 

The first time I saw her, she was knocked out in a bed. I thought she had a battle, and she was resting. Or maybe she was sick? But Mommy told me that she wasn’t.

Did you know Mommy likes someone? I won’t tell who! I called him Daddy and he smiled at me! I was happy. Mommy has prettier eyes though. And her name is pretty! Her name is Skyra. It means ‘born of Sky’. My name is just Skye. It’s boring. 

There’s another person in the room, besides me and my C-Key. Everybody else went to go have a secret meeting. I’m supposed to be watching with sharp eyes. And I’m also supposed to be quiet. But I don’t think my C-Key will mind if I sing to her a tiny bit. Songs will help her get better.

There’s another person in the room. It’s a man. His name sounds funny. Steven. It’s a human name, though, so I guess it makes sense. Torr said he went through shock. I wonder, was it like a Thunder Shock? Those aren’t good for my wings. 

Torr is a good singer, even though he’s a water and ground type. Maybe the elements in his head cancel out? Or maybe they mix, and that’s why his voice sounds nice. Aiden thinks it’s nice, too. Aiden’s funny. 

Torr and I sang together for my C-Key. Torr calls her Lexa and Daddy calls her Alexa. But I think her full name is Alexandra. What an ugly name. I think I’ll call her Selex. That sounds nicer. It means 'star-follower’. Or maybe I can just call her Alex.

Steven is very beautiful, though. His hair is like smoke and very soft. His skin is smooth, like stones in a river. 

Steven wakes up. He looks scared, but when he sees my C-Key, he gets out of bed and stumbles to her. I’m supposed to be very quiet and watch, so I don’t move. He lifts the sheet and gets into bed with her. But it’s very narrow, so they have to cuddle together. He kisses her hair. I think he’s crying.

“Stay safe,” he is whispering, “There are so many things that can hurt you.” And then he goes back to sleep. His arm is under her head and they look like two trees I saw once that grew together and wrapped around each other.

I wonder if Steven is Alex’s compass? How do humans say compass? Soulmate? That’s an ugly word. Steven looks less worried since he’s next to her now. But Alex looks like she is hurt. I should sing to her more. 

I’m just about to, when everybody walks back through the door. 

“What?! Skye! I told you to watch them!” Mommy whispers.

“I did watch them!” I say. I am proud of my sharp eyes. Daddy laughs, but he looks very tired. “Is Steven Daddy’s friend?”

“Huh. I wonder, cupcake,” he says and walks over to the bed. I think he is going to shake Steven awake, but instead, he grabs Steven’s collar and rips him off the bed and onto the floor. Steven gasps when the breath pours out of his lungs. Daddy puts a quick foot on his throat. “Good morning, Steven. We have two minutes before your Pieces come back and possibly rip us to shreds. Alexa is currently unconscious, so I don’t think she’ll be listening to what we say. Now talk,” and he squishes his throat a little. When Steven doesn’t say anything, Daddy shakes his head. “Be glad I’m the one doing this, friend. Torrent would gladly jerk your teeth out one by one.”

Steven speaks as best as he can with a foot on his throat. 

“I’m a liar.”

“We know that,” Torr spits. “We just don’t know to what extent.”

Steven puts an arm over his eyes. 

Is he crying?

“I’m a liar,” he repeats, but he also continues, “When Ash came here, he renamed himself Red. A new place, a new name. I was instructed to show him around. He was supposed to be a guest, almost. A visiting dignitary. The first person from another dimension. He wasn’t even supposed to have Pieces. But then,” Steven laughs bitterly, “then I fell for him, and my father couldn’t have me dating some no good low-life, so he put Ash on the project to test PENs. Nobody knew how Ash really was, except me. How charismatic he was. How cruel. How vibrant. How insane. And I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. Wasn’t I his downfall, then?”

“So now what?” Torrent retorts, “So you’re just projecting that crush on Lexa now? Is she your new plaything? Your new toy?" 

Steven bites his lip hard, furious. It starts bleeding. 

A creepy laugh from the door. It’s Stavros. 

"How interesting.” But he doesn’t look like he wants to come closer. “Bastion, look at his face. Do you see it? How pitiful.”

Bastion nods, but she doesn’t speak. 

“Do you guys like watching him suffer for your own sick kicks?” Aiden grinds out. 

“Maybe?” Stavros is grinning, “He’s like a small child compared to us. It’s fun to watch him flounder.”

“Stavros,” Steven’s voice is very quiet, but there’s no more smile on Stavros’s face. It looks very sad. 

“Ash was not your fault, Steven,” Stavros says. And this is how I know he loves his C-Key. “Falling in love is not your fault. Loving him was not your fault. And being unable to spare him from the wrath of his own pieces was not your fault. It’s been two years. We’ve told you this everyday for two years.”

“Okay, right,” Aiden interrupts, “Ash is Red and Red is dead. How insightful. It even rhymes. But what I want to know is what the fuck happened yesterday? Did you see her eyes glowing? She was talking to you, Steven, as if she knew you from a while ago. And she was reminding you of someth–” Torr moves over and steps right in front of Aiden. There’s a whoosh and then steam. Aiden is frustrated when Torr holds his hands. “I’m trying! I’m fucking trying, you piece of over-glorified sushi!" 

"A seed,” Stavros says and taps his own head, “A seed in her mind. Tell me, Torrent. You’ve been with her the longest, yes? Did she ever act weird? Complain of voices talking to her?”

There is silence.

“One time, she got out of Foxglove’s hold and started to laugh maniacally,” Daddy says.

“No, it was before that, too,” Mommy adds, “She said she heard voices, but she thought it was just the electricity from Wally.”

“No,” Torr mutters, “even before that. In the very beginning. When I first met her. When she tried to choose me as a starter, she fainted. In her sleep, she was screaming that she didn’t want to choose the Torchic.”

“Ah, since the very beginning then.” Stavros walks over to Steven, who’s still on the floor, arm over his eyes. “You asleep, Steven?” Steven shakes his head. “What I think, is that there is a very malicious, very present spirit lodged in her. Go to bed, Steven. Come on, get up.” He pulls Steven up. “Come on, climb in next to the little lady.”

“No,” Torr snaps, stepping in front of her. “I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of you.”

“But you trust me, right?” Daddy says gently, wrapping his fingers around Torr’s hand. There is a struggle written on his face but Torr finally pulls away.

“No,” he shakes his head, “this time, I don’t even trust you.”

“ASH!" 

I jump, because she surprised me, but Torrent turns fast to Alex. 

"And that’s curtain call for us, Bastion,” says Stavros. He hooks an arm around Bastion’s shoulder and walks out of the room.

“Lexa? Lexa! Look at me!”

“Torrent?” Her eyes focus on him. They look like the sky. With little golden bracelets. “Torrent, I had a good and bad dream. Torrent, Ash was here, I’m sure of it. He was alive and he wasn’t dead but I know that’s not real life. I know he’s dead but… but no, he’s dead. He can’t be alive.” She puts her face in her hands and flops back to the pillow. “What a good and bad dream.”

“Lexa, you okay?” Torr loves his C-Key very much, too. Because I can feel it curling from his words, this adoration and worry and love. He leans over and puts his forehead against hers, hands cupping her cheeks. “Lexa, you–”

“–fainted,” Daddy cuts in smoothly. 

“Briar!”

“Yes, Torrent?” His voice is as gentle as his hand. 

Torr grits his teeth. He hugs Alex very hard. 

“I was worried.”

“I’m okay, Torrent. My head hurts, though. I wanna sleep more. Steven, you look sick.”

Steven does look very sick. He looks pale and shaking. He doesn’t even respond but shakes his head very slowly.

But when Alex pets the bed next to her, he smiles a little, tiny bit. He walks over and she squiggles over so he can sit down. 

“I want a poem,” she says, pulling the sheets up to her chin. There is a smile on his mouth, not in his eyes. He is doubtful and unsure. I wonder why? 

Torr looks at him with unhappy eyes as he slowly stretches out next to Alex. 

He speaks in a lullaby voice:

“Some days are band-aid days.

restart, peel off the backings - 

stick them on your skin or heart, 

to keep your arteries in place.

cups of coffee, all the tea it takes.

put your crown down for today.

let me be the first of many 

to remind you of your name;

watch it rain from glass palaces. 

it fades,

I swear it passes

you have a lifetime of other chances,

it’s okay to sit down 

for a scrape.

Some days are just band-aid days.”

I know I’m supposed to be quiet, so I don’t say it, but I think that’s a really nice song. I want to sing it, but Mommy will be mad, so I don’t. 

Everyone is very quiet, and Steven is combing Alex’s hair with his fingers. She looks sleepy again. 

“I wished I wasn’t so messed up,” she says. Her eyes are almost closed.

“You’re not messed up, Lexa.”

“She is,” Mommy argues. She hasn’t talked in a while. Aiden makes a low rumbling in his chest, but stops when Torr glares at him.

“I am. There’s something wrong with me.” She and Torr reach for each other at the same time. I wish I had that kind of bond with someone. It looks nice. “I wish you had been my brother, Torrent. Or Brendan.” But in the same breath, she says, “I miss Ash.”

***

“So we’re not going to tell her?!”

“Too risky. Ash may find out that she became aware of him. That might make him lash out.”

“That’s so fucking stupid!”

“There’s no reason to make her stress even more, especially when we don’t know how to get rid of him.”

“Ah, but there is a way, isn’t there?”

“What, you got an idea, you creepy magnet?”

“Aiden, calm down.”

“I’m fucking calm, Torrent.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were in a relationship with Calm?!”

“…that joke wasn’t remotely funny." 

"You need a powerful Piece, yes? And I know of one or three. But you may need to do something dangerous. And illegal.”

“Oh. Them.”

“They’re not just a myth?”

“Oh, Torrent, you grew up in a lab, right? So out of touch with your heritage.”

“Don’t rub it in my face, asshole." 

"They’re real. But we aren’t strong enough to face them, yet. Not nearly strong enough.”

“Well, then. You have your goal, right?”

“Goal? More like our cliff.”

“Keep climbing, little Numel. Or as you are prone to do, jump.”

***

“And you really have seven brothers?” Alex asks.

“Yes, and they’re all really mean to me! They pull on my dress and wings. When I said I was going to find a C-Key, they just said that they would be happy to see me go!” I pout. My brothers just have Leppa Berries for brains. “So I found Mommy!”

“I am not your mom!” Mommy says, exasperated.

“Come on, Skyra,” Daddy says, petting my hair. His hands feel nice. “She’s little.”

“Briar!”

“Skyra,” he says teasingly. 

“You have such white hair,” Alex says, holding my hand. “In my world, you would be an angel, with your white wings. But you would have a white dress, not blue. I like the blue better though.”

“Where are we going, Alex?” I flap my wings a little to take an extra high jump.

“Meteor Falls. Steven said it was pretty there.”

“Where is Steven going?”

“Who knows? Steven goes everywhere.”

“Is Steven your compass?”

She tilts her head because she’s confused.

“What’s a compass?”

“Like a soulmate?” I try to think of another word, but I can’t, so I chirp. 

“She means boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “No.”

“Steven loves you a lot, though.”

“I love Steven a lot, too. But that doesn’t mean he has to be my boyfriend.”

“Hm.” I don’t really think that’s what I meant, but I’m still little, so maybe I’ll know this language better when I grow up. Then I can ask her again. “Do you have a compass?”

“No.”

“Is Torr your compass?”

“I’m her dad,” Torr says, and he grins when Lexa sticks a tongue out at him. “Or her brother. Or her boyfriend. Maybe a bit of everything?” he asks, catching her hand in his.

“I hope you stay the same when you evolve, Torrent,” Alex says, leaning against him. She doesn’t see his face turn sad when he kisses her forehead. 

Everybody has been sad lately. It’s very strange. But I’m allowed to talk about it. 

I can fly like Mommy does, but I like hopping on the crumbling stones a lot better. Sometimes, I tip them, but I try not to. It’s a fun game. Hop, hop, hop. 

Today, Aiden is in the ball. I think he’s mad. But even if I were angry, I would rather be outside than in there. 

Soon there’s a really big mouth of a cave. I jump to touch the ceiling. It is very wet. There are also voices! 

Mommy cocks her head. She can hear them, too. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” she says, swooping low. Alex runs after her and I glide now. My legs won’t be able to keep up. There is a small ledge and we look over it to see a group of humans. One of them is very frightened. He is wearing a white coat and has glasses. The others are wearing funny red sweaters with hats connected to them. 

“Yes, I know, Professor Cozmo,” one of them says. He has a long, red and black jacket on. His red hair is slicked back. 

“A-a-and what you’re doin-g is w-wr-ong!” This time, the man in the white coat speaks. Wow, he is very frightened.

“I’m aware, Professor Cozmo.”

“Th-this is illegal!”

“I realize, Professor Cozmo.”

“I am v-very good friends with D-D-D-Devon Co–”

“Professor Cozmo, we will leave this cave with the Meteorite. Whether to choose to give it to us, or we must injure you for it is the only difference.”

“Alexandra?" 

I look around to see a human in a blue bandana and black shirt and pants. He has very brown, nice looking skin. His eyes are just like Alex’s! They’re sky blue and have gold rings!

"Archie? Oh, you’re here to stop Team Magma, are you? Well–” Alex stops when he takes a step closer. He looks angry and worried. 

“Young lady, what are you doing here? Do you just run headfirst into dangerous situations? If you see that someone is getting mugged, you do NOT, under any circumstan–”

“Young lady?” Daddy says. “Why would you–” His eyes open wide and he lunges at Archie, grabbing him and twisting his arm behind his back. Even though he struggles, and even though Archie is much bigger, Daddy is a Piece, and Pieces are much, much stronger than humans. 

“Briar? Let him go, he wasn’t hurting any–”

“Alexa, step next to this guy for a second." 

She does and Archie stops moving, horrified at something he must have just realized. 

"No! You can’t tell–”

“Oh, hell no,” Torrent says quietly, looking at Alex and then Archie. “Oh, hell. Fucking. No.”

“I was the only one that saw him last time. But now that I look at him again–”

“No, please!” Archie’s voice is getting louder. “You can’t! You’ll destroy everything!”

“Torrent?” Alex looks uneasy. “Briar, what’s going on?”

“Exactly the same,” Mommy mutters, eyebrows down. “Their eyes are exactly the same.” Daddy snatches the bandana off and we see messy black hair. Finally, Daddy let’s him go and it’s the first time I think I’ve seen Daddy very, truly, frighteningly angry. 

“It’s all your fault,” he snarls at the man. “If you had been around the house more, she wouldn’t have grown up like that. Leaving your wife to take care of two childre–”

“I know!” Archie’s voice is sharp. “I didn’t know this would happen–”

“Who in their right mind keeps away from their family for that long?! Not even after your son died, did you come back. Not even–”

“–I have thought of it everyday, Breloom!” Archie snaps. “And I have regretted it with the same intensity that I hate myself for it. But there is no choice but to keep moving forward. The water runs much deeper than we hear.”

“I would kill you,” Torr says quietly. I look to him. His headphones are over Alex’s ears and he is holding her face to his chest. But Alex doesn’t struggle because she trusts Torr, even though she can’t see anything or hear anything. “I would kill you, but then I would rob Lexa of any chance she has of seeing her family again. So get ready, Archie.” and he pulls off the earphones and turns Alex around. “Lexa, this is your father." 

She just looks confused. 

"What? Look, Torrent. Professor Cozmo is getting injured down there and, wait, I think he got knocked out. We need to help him. And Maxie is leaving, so we should stop the–" 

Torr gives her a slight shake.

"Lexa, this is your father.”

So she focuses her eyes on Archie. 

“Oh. No, well, my father is in my world. He’s overseas. He’s actually probably in military, since everything he does is so top secre–”

“Lexa. Do you trust me? Okay, now, remember when you found out Professor Oak in the game was your grandpa? Remember when you found out that Steve Jobs had a foot in your world and our world? Remember? Now, knowing all of this, is it so hard to believe, that maybe, just maybe, that this is your father?" 

"Archie?” the man called Maxie calls from below. “Are you ready? I got the Meteorite.”

But Alex’s eyes are looking, looking into Archie’s eyes and I can feel everything crashing down in her head. I can hear memories and taste time giving her pearls from the past. Reality hits her like a stone. Archie’s hand reach up a little, but they stop and he squeezes them into fists. He turns around.

“Dad?" 

He is stopped by her soft voice. His back is rigid.

"I’m coming, Maxie,” he calls and jumps down the ledge. 

“Dad?” her voice is louder now, and she looks over the edge. Maxie looks up, surprised, then back at Archie, then back at Alex. His face crumples in pity. 

“There’s my cute niece,” he says, but only I can hear it, because he said it with his aching heart. 

“Dad!" 

They turn and walk away.

"DAD!" 

"Lexa–”

“I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU FOR TWELVE YEARS! TWELVE YEARS, I WAS WAITING FOR YOU. I NEVER GOT A WORD, A KISS, A BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR TWELVE YEARS. SO, FOR ONE, SECOND, CAN YOU PLEASE TURN AROUND AND TALK TO ME?!”

I can see those words fly and pierce him in his heart. He falters, but Maxie gently grabs his elbow and pulls him forward. 

His tears smell like the ocean.


	20. Half and Half

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

 

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Torrent’s talking to me, but his words don’t register. He sounds apologetic though. All I hear is my heartbeat. 

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Skyra is shaking my shoulders now.

How many lies have I been told? 

All of this. 

All of this started off as an adventure. Has it been just a–

 _–farce, Alex, dear_.

That voice again.

I _know you, I walked with you once, upon a dream._

My head hurts. Am I going through shock? 

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

_I know you, the gleam in your eyes is such a familiar gleam._

Where have I heard this song before? A music box?

_And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem._

But if I know you…

_I’ll know what you’ll do!_

You’ll… love me. At once. 

_Like the day you did once, upon a dream…_

“NO!” My shriek tears the air, rips the silence into shreds. My hair is strung with dewdrops, but I’m warm from Torrent’s jacket and from the fire crackling as if nothing is wrong.

His hands, warmer than the air, but still cool, clutch my shoulder and then my face. 

“Lexa?” and then he is pulling, pulling me into his arms, more of a father than my father ever was, more of blood than my own. “You alright? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like that. I was angry and–”

“No more!” I bark, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder. “I don’t want any more lies! Everybody has been lying to me! I am part of everybody’s agenda, except my own, and it stops today!”

“Lexa–”

“No more, Torrent! We are going after my father! We are going to ask him exactly  _what_  is my family’s involvement in this! We are going to ask why he didn’t contact us for twelve years and we are going to ask him  _how exactly Ash died_!”

“Lexa, I don’t think–”

I pull back to glare at him and he flinches from the sting of fire in my eyes. As inflammable as he is, I am not a petty flame. 

I am an inferno. I am hell. 

“You will come with me. You will help me find my father,” I order. There is no yield in my voice, but his face softens and he nuzzles into my cheek. 

“I would follow you even after the stars stopped shining,” his breath is warm against my ear, “I don’t need the light to see you. You don’t need to worry about me following you. But Lexa, what if your dad won’t speak to you?”

“We will make him speak, with any method.”

“You will become a monster.”

I grit my teeth and do not say a word. The tears that trail down my face are hot, as if they know my insides are blazing. Torrent patiently wipes them away, one by one. 

More of a father than my own.

More of blood than my blood. 

“Would you love me even if I became a monster?”

Storm-cloud eyes rage a war inside his head.

“I would,” he replies and I feel my heart settle in my ribcage. 

“And you wouldn’t lie to me?”

“I would only lie to keep you safe.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I would only lie to keep you safe,” he repeats, stroking his lips over my knuckles. 

Then, because of my heart thumping against my ribcage, I follow its direction to lean up and kiss his mouth, my hands sitting on my lap like two broken birds. I taste salt and sun.

After a moment, he nudges me away gently.

“That’s only for boyfriends, Lexa.”

“Then I wish you were my boyfriend!” My voice sounds harsher than I mean it to be. I kiss him again, and he pushes me away again.

“No, you don’t,” he says, blotting my eyes, “you’re scared and you’re starved for love and your mind is all mixed up. Your heart is confused and trust me, I know. I can feel it. I know you. There’s a hole in your chest. You want someone, Lexa. But not me,” he rubs his nose with mine.

“Then who are you? To me?” I hiccup, furiously wiping my eyes. “What are you here for? Why do you love me so much?”

“Because you chose me,” he says simply. “And you are my other half.”

And so I understand. 

***

The days pass. 

Moments fill our time. The white flash of Aiden’s teeth against his dark skin. The way Briar starts to smell sweeter as summer progresses. Torrent’s voice in a lullaby. The first time Skyra doesn’t immediately snap at Skye when she calls her Mommy. 

Also, a brief afternoon spent with Stephan, who talks about his work and asks, timidly, how his older brother is doing. And in the back of my mind is Wally’s face, looking out through a window when we loop through Verdanturf. He puts his hand to the glass, briefly. Before I can blink, he’s gone, leading me to wonder if I had imagined him. 

Days. 

On a cable car ride to the top of Mt. Chimney, Briar finally reminds me. 

“It’s been longer than a month, you know,” he says, looking out the window. I’m leaned against him, but when he speaks, I jolt upright. He doesn’t look at me. “You can go home now, if you want to. The portal’s open.”

My mother’s and grandfather’s face flashes before my mind. But they are the only people that do. So many more things hold me to this world.

I shake my head.

“I want to find out what happened to Ash. I don’t want to be ignorant anymore. I want to  _know_. And–” Here, I falter. “But I never asked what you guys wanted. I know Torrent would follow me. And so would Skyra, because she wants to get stronger. But I don’t know about anyone else.” The silence fills the car. “Would you?”

It is a long time before he answers, still turned away.

“Dying is very frightening. To think that’ll I’ll stop all deductive thought someday terrifies me. But then I think, what’s the use of my mind if I can’t use it? Where would I go if you released me? What would I become? Pieces are truly incomplete without their C-Keys. I think I would much rather die than be reverted to the state where I couldn't  _think_.” He stops, letting the swaying creak of the car fill the air again. “But that’s all ghastly in it’s own way, too. To think that I would one day have something to fear more than death and to fear death itself…” Finally, he turns to me, amusement in his eyes, and pulls me onto his lap. “Don’t listen to me. I don’t know what I’m saying, Baby Girl.”

“You always know what you’re saying.”

“Hm.”

“I wouldn’t have to release you. I could keep you has a Piece, but you could go out into the world, do what you wan–”

“I won’t leave you, Darling. Not like this. Not in the middle of this mess. Maybe after, after your end. After what you think should be the finale of your story, maybe then I’ll go traveling with Skyra.” Then, in a much more fragile, smaller voice, “I want to see you grow up, Alexa. Don’t deny me that right.”

More of blood than my own. 

When the doors slowly open, I take a deep breath. 

“Ready?” I ask.

“When am I not?” he answers, and steps out. I immediately let everyone out of their PENs. 

“Hey, you can’t come up here!” one of the many grunts, both on Team Magma and Aqua, tries to stop me, but one snarl from Aiden and he backs away, more annoyed than scared. None of them pay me any attention and just turn back to their conversations. 

Red and blue swirl together. They aren’t fighting. They’re speaking, laughing like old friends. 

I walk a couple of meters, but no one seems willing to battle. 

“Aren’t you guys gonna stop me?” I finally say aloud. Once girl in Team Magma looks over her shoulder in disgust. 

“Your Pieces are obviously stronger than ours. Why would we send them into a battle that will definitely kill them? Might as well let our Leaders take care of you,” she sniffs and turns back.

“Weird,” Torrent comments, keeping close to me. 

It smells like sulfur, rotten egg smells pervading the air. There is no real road, but there definitely is a path up the side of the mountain, hedged in by monstrous rocks, acrid smoke, and glimpses of an abyss that falls into a lake of lava. 

“Ready to meet your maker?” Aiden asks drily. 

“Hilarious,” Torrent deadpans. 

As expected, it isn’t my maker who we meet first.

“Maxie,” I call out. When he sees me, his eyebrows twitch slightly. 

“Alexandra? Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“I guess you haven’t heard of the emerald version. I don’t really understand why this world echoes it. But anyway, that’s not why I came here. I came here–”

“–looking for me,” says a quiet voice, and Archie steps out from behind a rock cropping. 

Thump. 

It takes all my willpower for the breath to stop catching in my throat.

“No, we came here to get the Meteorite,” Briar spits, his lips curling, “You, on the other hand, we can care less about.”

Good thing I have Briar.

Archie simply smiles, rubbing his beard. 

“You’ve aged,” he says.

“And you’ve aged poorly,” I retort. 

“I’m sure you have many questions.”

“Not really. We just came here for the Meteorite.”

“Listen, Alexa–”

“ _–don’t say my name!_ ” And I will not cry. I refuse to cry in front of someone who hasn’t, in my memory, ever seen me cry. I refuse to break in front of him but the sound of my name coming from the mouth of my father,  _my father_. 

His eyes, that which echo mine, are soft. We have the same arching eyebrows, I think. The same dimples. 

“Alexa–”

“You let us grow up  _alone!_  Without a dad who taught me how to ride a bike or to defend myself! You left me all alone against a brother who hit me and mom. And I  _still_  find that I love him more than you!”

“I’m–”

“NO!” I shout, jabbing a finger at him. “DON’T SAY THAT YOU’RE SORRY! BECAUSE UNLESS YOU GO HOME RIGHT NOW, STRAIGHT BACK TO MOM,  _YOU AREN’T REALLY SORRY!_ ”

Years and years of loneliness. Years and years of empty Father’s Days. Years and years of teachers whispering their pity into my ears.

There is silence as I struggle to control my breathing and to blink back the tears. Torrent touches my back briefly, but they know this part, at least, is mine alone. 

“Alexa–”

“–I have been electrocuted by a child maniac. I have been called a shiftless vagrant. I have had my friends die in my arms. And yet,” I whisper, “and yet, I do not hate anyone more than I hate you.” And I see how that hurts him. I see him recoil slightly, as if my words were physical. And I have a small sense of satisfaction to see that he cannot respond. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me about this secret life of yours? How did Ash die?”

But all he does is shake is head slowly. 

“What, is it all still a secret?” My voice is bitter.

He continues to shake his head.

“I thought you were raised better than this.”

“YOU DIDN’T RAISE ME AT ALL!” I shriek and run up to him to grab handfuls of his shirt, yanking, jerking. “YOU WERE NEVER THERE IN MY LIFE!” I kick him in the knee, hard enough so that he falls. Immediately, my elbow connects with his face. “YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER. YOU ARE NOT ANYONE TO ME.”

I don’t remember how many times I hit him or kick him, or who finally pulls me off, but the next thing I know, I am being physically restrained by Skyra, who murmurs the wind into my hair. There is blood splattered on my arm and on my clothes. 

Then, there is a voice talking to me, calling my name. When I look toward my left, I see Briar crouched, looking at me.

“You okay there, Baby Girl?”

My tongue is too slow to speak. Everything feels syrupy. 

“Alexa, can you hear me?”

In the corner of my eye, I see Archie start to get up, holding his nose. Maxie doesn’t seem to have moved from his spot. 

I swim through the haze enough to utter one phrase:

“Battle me.”

Archie turns his head. 

“Battle me.”

“You’ve already–” but I am already interrupting Aiden with a shake of my head. 

“No. I haven’t hurt him enough. He need to  _hurt_. He needs to be in pain.”

“And who is it that can determine how much he hurts?” Skyra questions. “You?”

“If I battle you,” Archie manages to say, pinching his nose shut, “will you go home?”

The syrup clears and I raise my head, my lips lifting in a snarl. 

“If you  _win_ , I will go home.”

“Not a wise idea, Archie.”

Archie takes out a PEN with his free hand.

“Since when have we practiced wisdom, brother?”

But then, I remember the Team Aqua boy, clutching his dead Piece. I remember the horrified expression on his sister’s face. I remember how Archie - no… my father… I remember how my father’s face twisted in that momentary grief. 

“No.”

Archie stops.

“No,” I repeat, slowly, “I can’t fight you.”

“We’re stronger,” Briar says quietly. 

“But we’re not killers,” I reply. “We’ll slaughter them, and I don’t want their blood on my hands.” I look at Torrent, his mouth raised in a half-smile. “We’re not killers.”

“No,” Torrent agrees, taking my outstretched hand, “We are not killers.”

Is it the right decision? Maybe not, but it is  _my_  decision.

I brush past Archie and hold out a hand to Maxie. 

“I need the Meteorite, uncle.”

Expressions flicker across his face; I can’t tell which. Without a word, he put the rough, grey stone in my palm and folds my fingers over it. When I try to pull away, he keeps his hands around mine. 

“Child–”

“–I’m not a child anymore, uncle. I wish I were, but I’m not.”

He smiles, conceding, and releases me.

“May the world give you everything you ask for,” his voice is soft. He looks at me the way my mom used to look at me when I was sick in bed. A cool hand, a loving voice. 

I hug him. 

And he hugs back. 

I don’t spare Archie a single glance when I take the path down the mountain, Meteorite in my hand. 


	21. Torch

**Alex: I think you’re lying.**

**Brendan: I don’t have nightmares anymore. I promise.**

**Alex: Daymares?**

**Brendan: Pretty sure those are called hallucinations :T**

**Alex: Do you hallucinate?**

**Brendan: No. Do you?**

**Alex: No. How’s your stepmother doing?**

**Brendan: Mom’s alright. Baby’s due soon.**

**Alex: Does she still call you a lot?**

**Brendan: Yeah. I think she misses me.**

**Alex: Of course. She’s your mom.**

**Brendan: I guess.**

**Alex: Hm. Goodnight.**

**Brendan: Goodnight.**

**Brendan: I’m sorry. I love you.**

**Alex: Okay.**

**Alex: Good morning. I had another nightmare.**

**Brendan: Do you wanna talk about it?**

**Alex: Nope. But I did have peanut butter and Oran Berries for breakfast ^^**

**Brendan: >:O PB and Oran together? You barbarian. **

**Alex: Shut up. Did Aspen evolve yet?**

**Brendan: He did. He can speak now!**

**Alex: Can he sing?**

**Brendan: Aspen isn’t the type to sing.**

**Alex: Pity. Mine sings.**

**Brendan: My paper got published.**

**Alex: Another one? You’re like 17.**

**Brendan: I’m smart.**

**Alex: Clearly.**

**Alex: Goodnight.**

**Brendan: Goodnight. I’m sorry. I love you.**

**Brendan: Are you okay?**

**Brendan: Please be okay.**

**Brendan: I’m sorry.**

**Brendan: I’m so sorry.**

**Alex: ?**

**Alex: Brendan?**

**Alex: Hello?**

**Alex: What are you sorry for?**

**Alex: Brendan? Are you there?**

**Alex: You’re kinda worrying me.**

**Alex: Brendan, you haven’t answered for the entire day.**

**Alex: Brendan! Cut it out! This isn’t funny!**

**Alex: I love you?**

**Alex: Why aren’t you responding…**

**Alex: Professor says you’re fine. Why aren’t you responding to me…**

**Alex: I found out who my dad was.**

**Alex: Don’t you wanna know?**

**Alex: Brendan, it’s been a week.**

**Alex: Please.**

**Alex: Two weeks.**

**Alex: It was Archie of Team Aqua. Can you believe it? He was my dad, I mean. People leave me. You can’t leave me, too.**

**Alex: You can’t.**

**Alex: It’s been three weeks.**

**Alex: What would they even do with a Meteorite?**

**Alex: Because they’re not trying to expand the land/ocean or whatever like in the games. Those reasons are dumb, anyway.**

**Alex: Do you hate me?**

**Alex: It’s been four weeks. I miss you talking about gas-lighting and hormonal imbalances.**

**Alex: Did you ever exist?**

**Alex: Torrent tells me to stop texting you.**

**Alex: Goodnight.**

———-

Lavaridge is a town that smells like spices and bitter herbs. Steep slopes of the mountains shoot straight into the sky, so that that the circle of blue looks like an ever changing ceiling. Nearby is a small forest, but there’s no need to run to the woods to find nature. This town is steeped in nature; it’s quiet, and small, twittering birds drip from branches, flitting through the air to land on weathered roofs. 

Alex sits on a log on the outskirts of town, right where the forest starts to recede. She wipes the sweat from her face using her sleeve. 

“You would never have been able to make that hike a month ago,” Briar says, sitting down next to her. He isn’t sweating at all, even in his cardigan, and neither are Torrent or Aiden. I, on the other hand, had to discard my jacket a while back and rip off the bottom half of my jeans into makeshift shorts. They’ll reform in a couple of hours, but for now, I’m cooler than I would have been. 

“I’ve gotten stronger,” she responds, smiling.

She’s been like this ever since Mt. Chimney. 

She still smiles, but she doesn’t laugh anymore. Her sparring has taken on a ferocity that would be frightening except for the fact that her decisions have steadily become more and more level-headed. Often, I see her stop mid-sentence when she catches herself complaining.

I remember the evening where we discussed the change.

“She’s growing up,” Briar told me when her behavior had just started to turn. Alex had gone to sleep, draped over Torrent’s lap to counteract the heat. “Anyone would grow up after what she went through.” Aiden nodded his head in agreement and Torrent simply stared into the flames, the flickering colors dyeing his irises to the likeness of fire. 

But Skye said something different. 

“She has a bad feeling in her chest, like when you eat too much, too fast and it get’s stuck. I think it’s called nest hurt? Nest pain?” She chirped a word in the old dialect, frustrated. 

“Homesickness,” I translated. “Why would she be homesick? I thought she decided to stay here?”

“Just because she decided to stay here,” Torrent responded quietly, “doesn’t mean she didn’t have anything back at home.”

“We’re her family now, though,” I argued.

“Not her biological family.”

“What does that matter?”

“I don’t know!” His answer was decidedly bitter. “Otherwise, I would know how to help her!” Alex stirred, mumbling something that sounded like a name, and then went silent. 

“Torr is worried,” Skye stated. I glanced at her to see wide, blue eyes staring at me. “And angry.”

“Brendan stopped texting back,” he said and then sighed. “She’s been texting him but he’s not responding. She thinks something happened to him.”

“Maybe his phone broke,” Briar reasoned.

“Maybe, but I think she thinks something bad happened to him." 

"Is she afraid of people dying, then?” I asked.

“Nope. She’s afraid of alone-ness. She doesn’t wanna be abandoned,” Skye answered, certain. Torrent nodded.

“You’ve been remarkably correct on certain things for the past few weeks,” Briar said, passing a hand over her head. 

“It’s because I get feelings, Daddy.”

“You’re unusually empathetic.”

She laughed and I shushed her, so she laughed quietly. 

And even at this moment, I can see Skye’s gaze fixated on Alex’s face, knowing what she is feeling but unable to find the right words to help. 

“This place has a fire-type gym,” Alex continues after a silence, “So Torrent, you’ll probably have no problem.”

“No problem at all,” he smiles in return, touching the side of her face. 

Their dynamic has changed as well, and if Alex hasn’t grown up, Torrent certainly has. He shifts his attitude to synchronize with Alex’s newfound determination. He spars with her, seriously giving instruction, and isn’t as loud and carefree as he once was. 

“I want you to stay outside, Briar, and you, too, Aiden.”

Aiden cocks his head, confused.

“Why me? Fire doesn’t hurt me as much.”

“You’re reckless during fights,” she says and Aiden frowns, “And I know you do fine against regular trainers, but this is a gym battle. I don’t want you to get hurt. Anyways, I need you and Briar and Skye–”

“–I wanna come,” Skye interrupts, darting forward to place a small hand on Alex’s forearm. “I’ve never seen a gym battle before.”

“It’s not very different from a regular battle, Skye,” Alex says, touching a lock of the Swablu’s snowy hair. 

“I still wanna come,” she says stubbornly. 

“I’ll come, too,” I say when Alex nods. “Skye’s fast. I might need to go after her.”

“Yay, Mommy’s coming!”

I look down at her to see a smile as bright as her eyes, and I need to remind myself that it is a dangerous weakness to love the naive. But I don’t have the heart to shake off the hand she curls around my fingers. 

“Alright. Torrent, Skye, and Skyra will come with me. Briar and Aiden will go book a room at the hotel. I heard they have the best hot springs in Hoenn.”

“Won’t it be crowded?” Aiden asks, standing up and stretching. 

“No. It’s expensive.”

“Then how are you gonna pay for it?”

She grins and holds up Steven’s ring. 

“He never took it back,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, the smile still lighting up her face.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with this,” Briar says, taking the ring from her.

We walk together to the gym. Outside, Briar kisses Skye on the forehead, followed by Alex. Then, while Aiden hugs Alex, Briar turns to me and gives me a kiss that I feel burn through my chest. My mind stills. I am only aware of his hands on my hips and the fact that his mouth tastes sweet. 

He chuckles at my dazed look when his lips leave mine. 

“Don’t die, Darling,” he whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair back into my ponytail. 

“I’m not even fighting,” I mumble. 

“And keep them safe.”

“I will.”

———-

We hit a wall of heat so potent, it feels like a physical force trying to push us out. Thick steam fills the air, bringing with it the heavy scent of incense. 

“We’ll need to crawl,” Alex coughs, waving away some of the smoke already escaping through the open door, “Are you sure you want to come with us Skye?" 

She tucks her wings flat against her back and drops to the floor as an answer. 

When all four of us are inside the gym, hugging the floor, the door behind us slides shut, leaving us squinting in the dim light.

"This reminds me of Dewford,” Alex mutters. Torrent takes her hand. “Same thing as Dewford, then. Torrent, Water Gun anything that moves.”

Slowly, we crawl, breathing the few feet of steam-free air and staying close to the left wall. Ever so often, Torrent clicks off the safety on his gun and pulls the trigger off to the right somewhere. I only hear sizzles, but I trust his eyesight. Anyway, better safe than sorry. 

Eventually, we reach the edge of a small pool of water. 

“This leads to the next room. Hold your breath, submerge, and emerge on the other side!” Alex reads off the sign fixed next to the wall. “Well, we can’t do that or both of you will get your wings wet. Skyra, see if you can find a gap over the wall.”

See? Level-headed. Determined.

I flap my wings softly, not knowing how high the ceiling is and indeed, I find that between the wall and the ceiling is a gap about four feet wide. 

“Four feet of space,” I say when I return to the ground,“ I can carry you, but Torrent has to go through the pool.”

“Good thing Aiden didn’t come then,” she says. I lift her as Bastion lifted her so long ago: with an arm under her knees and an arm around her back, cradled to my chest. I flap harder this time, placing her on the wall on my first jump and then boosting myself on top of it on the second jump. Skye quickly follows suit, not even stopping to pause before jumping down to the other side. There is a splash as Torrent emerges out of the pool, wet hair sticking to his forehead. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Crawl. 

Hold.

Jump.

Splash.

Crawl.

We follow the left wall, reasoning, as it is with all mazes, that an ending must be somewhere. After a solid forty minutes, and just as Alex starts to wheeze instead of breathe normally, we find a door. Torrent quickly opens it and we all stumble into a room that has significantly less smoke.

“And so you’ve found your way.”

It front of us stands a woman with a braid of bright red hair coiled smoothly around her head. She looks like a civilian, with her simple clothes and plain face. The only thing that sets her apart are her tired eyes, much too old for her face.

“I am Flannery, Leader of this Fire Gym. Welcome, challenger.”

For a moment, Alex does not speak.

“You’re much different than you’re portrayed to be,” she finally says, shifting to her feet. Skye inches closer to me, grabbing the back of my shirt. 

“Oh. You’re the girl from the other world.”

“Have you heard of me?”

“The gym leaders talk about you. Watson especially. He says that you’re the girl who woke him up from his illusion of a city. They tore it all down and they’re rebuilding.” She pauses. “I heard you lost one there.”

And Alex evenly stares back and responds, “I did and one before.” Flannery’s expression does not change, but her eyes do soften the tiniest bit. 

“Have you come to challenge me?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Then,” she rummages in her pocket and pulls out a PAL, “I hope you are well prepared.” The PAL spins out of her hand onto the floor and a Numel materializes, blank-faced, waiting for instruction. 

Would Aiden have looked like that if he had been caught by another trainer?

Torrent doesn’t give me time to think further. Before the Numel can take out his weapons, he is blasted into the far wall by a pillar of mud. 

Skye inches even closer to me.

The Marshtomp reloads his gun calmly. 

“Next.”

A Slugma comes out next, with a fiery dress and equally burning hair, but her eyes are as dull as coals. 

Another click. Another pillar. 

“Next.”

When nothing else appears, I look up at Flannery and almost flinch at the look on her face. Her eyes are now alive with an internal flame as she slowly walks backward until she can barely be seen in the mist that swirls around the edges of the room. She throws in her next PAL and a huge figure emerges from the steam. The Camerupt barrels straight for Torrent, who flips neatly, aims backward without looking, and shoots his opponent down with a rush of water. 

“Next.”

“It’s been a while since someone has beaten my Camerupt,” Flannery says thoughtfully. From here, I can’t see the expression on her face. “At least in one shot, anyway.”

“Type advantage,” Torrent responds. Alex doesn’t say anything.

Flannery smiles.

“This will be fun,” she says. “VALKYRIE!” and her voice snaps like the crack of a whip. Torrent tenses and then rolls sideways just as a figure drops from above, shattering the ground in a missed Body Slam.

“Skye,” I say quietly, “Go to daddy.”

“But–”

“Now.”

She does what I say, closing the door on her way out.

Valkyrie stands slowly and although I am not afraid, I can feel Alex take a step back. 

The Torkoal looks like a warrior, with a helmet and shield made of inky stone and a spear tipped by a blood-red metal. Her chest plate and leg gear reflects the light, but the most fearsome, the most intense, the most  _brilliant_  aspect is the expression on her face. Her chin tilts upward in pride and coupled with her massive frame, I understand why Alex is scared. 

And even simpler than that: Valkyrie has an expression. 

Valkyrie has a name. 

Valkyrie is alive. 

“As this is an official gym battle, this will be a fight to the death!” Flannery says, her voice ringing through the room. “Valkyrie, do you willingly fight for me?”

“I do,” she says, shifting into a more threatening position. 

“And you, Marshtomp, do you willingly fight for Alexandra?”

Torrent looks behind him to Alex and their eyes meet. I can’t begin to comprehend the information that is exchanged with just a single glance, but I do understand the love that rolls off his tongue when he says, “I do.”

“Then Valkyrie, Sunny Day!”

Balls of fire whirl from the tip of her spear, lighting up the room until there isn’t a trace of a shadow anywhere. 

“Water Gun!” Alex shouts and Torrent complies, the force of the water pushing Valkyrie back when it hits her shield.

“Push back! Body Slam!”

She takes two strides forward and jumps, smashing Torrent with her shield. He manages to block at the last second, but he’s driven into the ground until he’s up to his knees in the floor. 

“Torrent get out of there!” Alex screams. “Or she’s–”

But Torrent is turned away from her and when he looks back to receive his next order, Flannery yells:

“Overheat!”

I have just enough time to dive in front of Alex before the searing blast of white heat rushes towards her. I hold her to the front of my body, holding my wings downward to cover her legs. 

“TORRENT!” Her cry is lost in the flames that roar  _around_  us. When it subsides, I feel Torrent behind me, lowering his arms. I realize that my wings are not burned. “Torrent!” Alex sobs. 

“Dirty trick.” His voice is cold. “She could have been hurt.”

“Not with you there. Besides, she should have gotten out of the way,” Valkyrie responds. 

“Is that how you fight? By attacking trainers?”

“Both the trainer and Piece must equally be willing to die.”

Torrent is about to say something, but stops mid-word. I look at him, unsure of what is happening, but he looks like he is concentrating hard on something. Valkyrie cocks her head, narrowing her eyes.

And then, I hear it.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP. Thump. Thump. Shhh. THUMP. Shhh. Thump. THUMP. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Suddenly, Torrent whirls to one of the suns floating in the sky and shoots a double jet of water. There’s a hiss and the whole room is suddenly flooded with steam. At the same time, Alex ducks flat onto the floor, tapping her fingers on the floor. 

“What are you doing?!” I ask, crouching next to her.

Alex only briefly glances at me. I can just vaguely see her face through the mist, even though we’re only a foot apart.

“Morse code!” she whispers and continues tapping the floor in varying intensity. 

“What?!”

“Torrent has better eyesight than Valkyrie and Flannery! And he ranged, so he can attack without moving! As long as he stays quiet and as long as they can’t see, he has the upper hand!”

“But Torrent can’t hear you.”

“He can feel the taps through the floor!”

At that moment, I am aware just how much she has changed. 

“Then, win,” I say.

It seems like a lifetime, waiting there in the mist, hearing the distant sounds of water and bright retaliations of fire and the faint tap-tapping. But eventually, Alex stands up.

“He won,” she says quietly. 

 _He killed someone_ , is what she won’t say. 

We wait for another lifetime and Torrent comes limping back to us, Sticker and TM in his hand. Alex runs forward, jumps up, and kisses him with a ferocity I didn’t know she had. He kisses back for a second, and then pulls her down.

“Only for boyfriends, Lexa,” but his voice is tired and quiet and grateful. 

“I don’t care,” she says, hugging him tightly. “You’re not dead. You’re not–” and then her voice catches in her throat and giant tears roll down her cheeks. “Why am I crying?”

“Because we killed someone,” Torrent says. “And Steven said to cry after every death.”

“But it wasn’t you who died.”

“But it was someone,” I say and hug Torrent so that she is in between us, crying. Torrent drops his head on my shoulder, hugging back. “It’s alright to cry, Alex." 

I let her weep until she is done, until the steam begins to lighten. 

"Does Flannery need help?” I ask Torrent. 

He shakes his head.

“No. She said she’ll do it herself, by her own hands. Like we did,” he responds, head on top of Alex’s, arms tight around her. “Dust to dust.”


	22. Opening

Exactly three years ago on this day, Lexa’s brother was murdered by his Pieces in an an event that I am not allowed to disclose to my trainer due to the possibility of said brother temporarily possessing her. 

What a fucking fantastic opening sentence. 

But I don’t want to talk about that first. 

No. First, let me tell you what happened when we stumbled out of that gym. 

Briar was waiting for us, and the first thing he did was to stride up to Lexa and grab her by her shoulders. 

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt?” he asked, patting her hair and back and arms, looking for a wound he couldn’t see, fearing the worst. 

“I’m alright,” she said, coughing the steam out of her lungs.

“Are you sure? Burns need to be treated, even the little ones. Third-degree burns are the worst. Here.” Briar cupped his hands for a moment and then spread them. A burst of sweet, clear air hit her face. She stopped coughing. “What else. Anything else? Cuts? Bruises?” She shook her head. “Are you sure? You’re alright?

"I’m find, Dad, really–” she broke off, hand covering her mouth and I felt her nails dig into my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m tired–”

But Briar snatched her up in a hug, squeezing her tightly enough to bend her backward. 

“Oh, Baby Girl,” he murmured in a soft voice I’ve never heard him use, “Don’t you ever be sorry for something like that.” She clutched onto him, hand leaving my arm, and hugged him back.

“Dad, we killed someone,” her voice shook, “We killed someone. We killed someone.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You had no other choice. It’s going to be okay.” He pulled back, still holding onto her shoulders, and looked down at me. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” was my eloquent response. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good. When Skye came running to me, I thought - well, it doesn’t matter now,” he turned to Skyra, “I knew you would keep them safe.”

“Praise Torrent this time,” she said, stretching her wings in a wide arch, “he kept us all safe. And Lexa for her morse code battle strategy. I need the sky for awhile. I’ll be back.” Without another word, she rocketed into the sky, disappearing in the late afternoon sun.

“Uh, is she alright?” I asked, looking at the blank swath of blue.

“She’s fine,” Lexa said. “She’ll be back. Briar’s her lifeline.” I lifted her and her legs and arms wrapped around me.

“We did good,” I said rubbing my nose with hers, “Good thing we took all that time to learn the code.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, nuzzling into my shoulder. 

In hindsight, it was good that Skyra had left. It made the coming situation a hell of a lot less violent than it could have been.

Because on our way back to the hotel, guess who we ran into?

“Brendan?” She pulled herself higher on my shoulder. I turned my head where she was looking and followed her gaze to the white-haired boy, walking alone down the path.

Do you know what he said?

“Oh, Christ,” and sprinted away from us, heading towards the forest.

“Catch him, Briar,” she said, and wriggled out of my arms.

Very few Pieces can outrun a Breloom. 

No human can.

When we did catch him, he struggled in Briar’s arm and I could see immediately that something was wrong. His hair was matted and his usually healthy skin had a sick green undertone. The worst part was the terrified expression stretched on his haggard face. But when Lexa stretched out her hand and touched him gently on the wrist, all the fight seemed to leave him.

“You can’t,” he sobbed, limp against Briar, great, heaving breaths shaking his body. 

“I can’t what, Brendan?” Lexa said, keeping her voice soft. She inched back his sleeves to find fresh cuts staining the cloth already rusty-brown with blood. “Brendan, you promised.”

“You can’t.” But at the same time he reached his arms forward and pulled her close to him. Briar let go and stepped back, trading glances with me. “You can’t. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Lexa didn’t say anything, but let herself be held and rocked. 

“Brendan, it’s going to be alright. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” she finally said. His only response was his mouth on hers. 

But before I could smack him into the next dimension, Briar gripped my wrist with enough force to make me wince. I looked up at him and saw that his eyes were wide. On my wrist, with a single slender finger, he tapped out in the code I thought only Lexa and I had learned: “Not alone.”

And I could sense it then, three Pieces shifting through the trees, watching us.

“Outnumbered,” Briar tapped out, and stroked my wrist calmly, thinking. 

I felt something jolt in my chest and looked back at Lexa to see her kissing back, and they clutched at each other like the drowned clutch to land, like soldiers clutch to hope. 

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “I missed you. It’s going to be alright." 

Fear. Loneliness. Emotions. Emotions. Emotions. Emotions.

Chest tight. Emotions. Emotions.

He’s back. Emotions. Emotions.

Someone loves me again. He’s back. Emotions. Emotions. Emotions.

Nails on my arm brought me out of the sinkhole.

"Calm,” Briar tapped out. “Look at me. Only look at me.” So I did, and concentrated on the way his eyes had flecks of a darker green. “Good. Only emotions. Calm. Good boy. Aspen. Bagel. Fire. Bad situation.”

“Die here?” I tapped back, but he squeezed my hand fiercely. 

“No. Skyra coming. Wait.”

We didn’t need to wait for Skyra, because suddenly, Brendan pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still crying. “I love you.”

“It’s alright. You’re back so it’s alright now. We can–”

“Goodbye.”

Something faster than Briar blurred out of the forest, scooped Brendan up, and disappeared. Briar made one move to stop it, but stopped, conscious that the other two Pieces were moving away. 

“Brendan?”

The sound of her voice broke my heart.

———-

Three years later, on this day, Lexa’s brother is not here to see how fucking blank her face looks. 

It started after Brendan left us. By the time we got to the hotel, she looked like a Piece that had been captured in a PAL. She would follow simple commands but beyond that, nothing. 

Nothing at all.

Skye took one look at her and wouldn’t leave Lexa’s side.

“She’ll be a-okay,” the Swablu said, face buried in Lexa’s stomach. “She just needs a little bit. She’s on a journey right now, but she’ll find her way.”

“It sounds like shock,” Steven says, his voice worried. I called him a while ago at Briar’s request. “PTSD has this kind of outcome sometimes, and, well, it is today. The day.”

“Then why aren't you broken like this?” Aiden asks over my shoulder. “You were dating him, right?”

“People grieve in different ways. Destructively and non-destructively. I tend to drop diamonds in fire and watch them disintegrate.”

“Or jump out of buildings so that Bastion has to catch him,” I hear Stavros say.

“Or that,” Steven admits. “But that was once.”

“That was six times, old man.”

“Keep her inside,” Steven continues, “Give her anything she wants. Within reason, of course. Call me when she snaps out of it or if anything else happens. I’m going to go find Brendan." 

He hangs up. 

Aiden and I look at each other.

None of us leave the hotel room for that entire day.


	23. Lily

I’m useless. I’m not useless. I am useless. What can I even do? I’m disgusting. I’m a murderer. How can I help? I can help. I can’t. I can’t do anything. I burn everything I touch. I burn everything. I burn everything. Why didn’t I just drown? Why couldn’t have it all been over then?

As usual, I’m awake. 

For the last hour, I’ve been watching the little bubbles that appear over Torrent’s head when he’s tired. It’s not unusual for Pieces to do this; it’s like a leak of energy when our self control is not so good. Skyra makes little eddies of air gently blow through the room and Briar scatters the tiniest, most perfect flowers I have ever seen. And since they sleep next to each other, standing near them feels like you’re in a mild, warm snowstorm. Skye, since she’s little, exhales little clouds at every breath, like a natural humidifier. 

Me? I probably set fire to the bedsheets or something. Or maybe I puke live coals. 

One of the bubbles float over to me, glancing off the tip of my finger before popping. There are more bubbles than usual and I can see Torrent’s bed glittering with tiny pebbles, which only happens when he’s exhausted. It makes sense. He hasn’t slept for forty-eight hours, watching Alexa to make sure she was alright through the night. 

I’m about to turn around and try to sleep when Alexa sits up in bed. I get up fast and stub my toe against the bed frame trying to reach her. 

“What’s wrong? Hungry?” My hands automatically move through her hair, an urge I thought was weird until Torrent confirmed that all of us felt it. I didn’t fight it after that. “Thirsty? Do you want water?” I don’t expect her to speak because she hasn’t for the past two days, so when she does, I jump a little. 

“Dark.”

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

She looks at the sleeping bodies around her and shakes her head. But then, she repeats, “Dark.”

I hesitate, but she’s already reaching for my arms, moonlight in her big eyes.

“Make it light,” she says, trusting that I won’t accidentally burn her alive. 

Useless. Don’t do it. You’ll burn her. You’ll kill everyone. Don’t do it. Stop! Stop! You can do it. You can’t do it! Don’t try! Try! Don’t! Do!

Focusing on the light thrumming of her heartbeat, I cup my hands and breathe into them, trying to get the light, but not the heat, of fire. Slowly, the edges of my fingers start to glow.

“Not yet. It’s hot,” I say quickly when she reaches out for it. She pulls back obediently while I control the heat. When I open my hands, a small, harmless ball of warm light wafts forward, highlighting the wondering expression on her face in a rich yellow. It’s her first expression in two days. 

Did I do that?

“Can I make it brighter?” she asks, and I touch the orb slightly with the tip of my finger. The brightness increases.

“You can do that, too,” I say, handing it over to her, “You also have the light inside.” She turns to me and smiles wide, making her eyes crinkle at the corners.

Did I make her smile?

“When did you learn to say cute things, too?”

I feel the sudden pricking of tears and tightness of my throat, and don’t answer. I think she understands, because she strokes the turtle that swims down to me wrist as if it were alive. It flips over, letting her pet its belly. The silence lasts for a while, the glow of the ball between us, the turtle swimming up and down my arm. 

“Where’s Brendan?” and although she doesn’t show it, I know she’s distressed because Torrent rolls over uneasily in his sleep. 

“Steven found him and took him to the hospital he runs in Mossdeep. It’s known for it’s neurological and psychiatric staff, so he’ll be fine.”

“Did Steven say anything about him?”

“He just said that he was fine. You can call him later to find out, right?”

“Did Flannery bury Valkyrie?" 

I’m still not used to the way her thoughts derail sharply at any point in time. The way she jumps from topic to topic gives me whiplash. 

"I - uh - well, I saw a fresh grave on the outskirts of town. So - yeah. I guess.”

“I wanna call Steven.”

“It’s pretty late. Do you think he’ll pick up?”

“He’ll pick up,” she responds assuredly, sliding off the bed. 

“Alright. You should put some clothes on, though." 

She finds her shorts on the ground, and slides them on, zipping up Torrent’s jacket around her shoulders. But when we get to the door, iPhone in one hand, the ball of light in the other, I hear a sharp intake of breath. 

"Lexa?” Torrent calls, wrenching the blanket off him. 

“Hello.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Gonna go call Steven.”

He exhales something that sounds like “thank Cresselia”, gets up, clattering the pebbles onto the floor, and hugs her tightly.

“You need a bath,” he says when he lets go.

“I know. This is the hot spring place, right?”

She trots forward and Torrent grabs my hand with his cool one and squeezes tightly, making my heart stutter in surprise. I can feel the relief in his fingers. He stays like that down the hallway, the points of his fingers digging into my palms, whispering thank-you’s under his breath. 

“Did you make that?” he finally asks, nodding at the ball.

“Er, yeah.”

He lets go of my hand, the spots where his fingers used to be achingly cool. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I didn’t either.”

He reaches forward to take Alexa’s hand, which she gives willingly, putting the phone in her pocket. He bends down to rub noses with her, brown skin next to pale skin. 

We walk through expensive rooms. The hallways are all lined with dark wood, polished until cool. Giant windows show the surrounding forest on one side, and the sprawling hot springs on the other, making the hallways seem like part of the outside. However, at this time of night, you can only see what’s inside the soft glow of the lanterns. Whenever employees pass us, they ask if we need anything and bow when we say we don’t. 

Finally, we reach the lobby, another room designed with strips of mahogany and teakwood. The windows extend here, too, but one entire side is completely open to air, letting in the night breeze that ruffles the leaves of the potted plants. The wooden wind chimes return the soft hiss of leaves.

She calls Steven when we get to the changing rooms. As she thought, the phone rings twice before it connects. But it’s not Steven who picks up the phone, but an Aggron with shaggy black hair and rich blue eyes. As I dissipate the light ball, I hear both Alexa and Torrent gasp.

“It’s the little princess,” the Aggron says, tipping the flat metal mask on top of his head like a hat. “Looking for Steven?”

“Cobalt?” I hear her soft voice break towards the end. Her fingers inch towards the screen. “Cobalt?”

“Ah,” his eyebrows draw together in grief. He slides the mask over his face, the metal fangs stopping just over his chin, until only those deep blue irises glow out of his face. “We all have these eyes, princess. It’s best to forget about the little one.”

At this, the spell breaks, and I can hear the steel creep into Alexa’s voice.

“I don’t forget. I won’t forget.”

“Damian!”

The Aggron half-turns and I see Steven in a white coat, a metal and rubber bendy thing around his neck. 

“Steven!” Alexa grabs the iPhone, “Is Brendan okay?” Steven stops and I see him take a sharp breath, as if in pain, but his voice is smooth. 

“One day, I hope you will call me just for me,” he says quietly, then continues, “Brendan’s fine. He’s awake and calm.”

“Can I see him?”

“No.”

“Steven!” I growl.

“No, both of you,” he says, this time with rare authority in his voice. “You might make him unstable. He’s scheduled to talk with a psychiatrist very soon and I don’t want that to be harder than it is. It’s what’s best for him.”

Her breath catches in her throat before rushing out.

“Fine,” she says.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“I miss my brother,” she whispers.

“I don’t.”

Another ragged breath.

“We need to go, Steven,” Torrent says, glancing at Alexa, who is squeezing the phone hard enough so that it creaks. He hangs up quickly and pries her hand open, saving the phone from an untimely death. “C'mon, Lexa. Bath time.” He needs to say it several time before she responds by taking off her shirt. “Look away,” he growls at me.

“What? From what?”

“Her. It’s a human thing. It’s weird to stare for them.”

“Oh.” I look away, studying the flammable whorls and patterns carved into the wood that lines the huge mirror. I turn back when I hear the rustle of a towel and see Torrent stripping, too, after wrapping a towel around Lexa. “Have you gotten darker than me?”

He pauses, looking at his own skin. 

“Maybe. We get darker as we get closer to evolution. More mud-colored.”

“In my world, you’d be called caramel-colored and beautiful,” Alexa says, serious, but not looking so lost anymore. Torrent smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “When you evolve, I think you will be much taller than me. Even taller than Briar.”

“Yeah, Briar’s pretty short,” Torrent laughs.

“Do Pieces have reproductive genitals?”

“No,” Torrent replies without missing a beat, leaving me, again, with whiplash. But the logical question of “then how do they reproduce” doesn’t seem to follow. 

Nobody’s outside at this time of night, except us, of course. The steam curls around my shirt, asking me to take it off, but I firmly pull it closer to my body, not planning to come anywhere near the water. Torrent, on the other hand, releases Alexa’s hand and dives into the water with hardly a sound or a ripple. I see him in the water for a moment, and then he almost melts away into the ground, his camouflage kicking in. 

“Are you scared?” she asks me, one foot already on the natural, rough stone steps leading into the water. She doesn’t give me time to respond and instead, holds my hand lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand.”

So I strip off my shirt, my insides quaking and the turtle turning screwdrivers across my chest. Torrent watches low in the water, only his hair breaking the surface. I almost slip on the steps, but she grasps my hand firmly and I feel the water solidify around my free hand, steadying me. Torrent smiles. 

The warmth steadies the tremor in my legs as we sit down on one of the many stones. Alexa swims from stone to stone to the deeper end under Torrent’s watchful eye while I lean back, still in the shallows.

The voices are still.

*****

The day before we leave for Petalburg, we meet Flannery again. 

We walk in the woods, Briar, Alexa, and I, before we have to go back to the city. It’s a strange walk; I’ve never been alone, sort of, with Briar before and he doesn’t go out of his way to talk to me, instead pointing out the edible plants to Alexa and feeding her honeysuckle. Insects hum in the air, though staying away from us, and the trees rise like pillars into a heavy sky. Then, between the gaps of the trees, we see fiery red hair. 

“Hello, girl,” Flannery says and nods and Briar and me. She looks neither angry nor sad. Just tired.

“Hello,” Alexa replies cautiously. 

“Are you going to Petalburg next?” Alexa nods. “Tavor doesn’t seem to like you very much. Stay on your toes.” Flannery moves to leave.

“I’m sorry about Valkyrie.”

The gym leader stops and looks back. 

“There’s no need to be sorry. Death isn’t the worst thing that can happen.” Flannery glances idly at the dark clouds roiling above us. “Valkyrie was a fighter. Bred to fight, with two aggressive parents. That’s what they used to do, before PALs, to make sure that the Piece wanted to fight. But when PALs finally started to become popular, I didn’t let her fight anymore. I think she would have rotted from the inside out if you didn’t come along. I certainly would have.” Flannery looks at neither Briar nor I but straight, and only, at Alexa. “That is the bond between C-Key and Piece. You must be willing to die for your Pieces, as your Pieces are willing to die for you. Do not flinch at death. There are worse things.”

“Like what?” Alexa asks.

Flannery looks at her for a long time.

“I think you know what, girl.”

She picks a long-stemmed flower from a nearby bush and leaves.


	24. Heaven

A sky. Stars. Then slices of dawn. 

A window. 

The sea. I hear it. 

A bed, bolted to the ground so I can’t move it. 

 

Where is Aspen?

These aren’t my clothes. 

A sky. The moon.

Where is Aspen? Where are my Pieces? Where are my friends?

Steven Stone walks in and pauses when he sees me in the window seat.

“I heard you wouldn’t talk to your psychiatrist,” he says, sitting on the bed. The late sun burns fire into his grey hair. I don’t move from my position, knees pulled up to my chest, head facing the window. “Brendan, look at me.”

“I need answers,” I creak, my voice rusty from disuse, but I don’t clear my throat. Let it rust. I don’t want to speak any more than I have to.

“I’ll give you whatever answers I can. But please, don’t sit there. You’ve been there for hours. I feel like the sun is going to burn a hole in your retinas.”

I do not turn. 

Where’s Aspen?

“Where’s Aspen?” I ask.

“Your team is with your father right now. I’ve been giving them daily updates about you.”

“Aspen should be in here with me.”

“Do you want me to arrange for him to come to you?”

All my joints whine when I unfold myself slowly off the hard wood and settle myself next to Steven. 

“I… I want my… my stepmom. My mom. I want my mom.” And when Steven takes my hand, I feel the tears start to blur my vision immediately. His eyes are somewhat like my own were, calculating, distant. But he wraps his own fingers around mine. He does not say a word. “I love A… Alex,” I choke out her name, “I love her so much,” my throat is convulsing. I am shaking. “Because she is pretty and I couldn’t… couldn’t have pretty things all my life and I wanted this so badly to be the exception.” It’s not just the outside. She’s the woods at night. She’s the ocean on a calm day. Through and through. I don’t know how to explain this to Steven, but he nods. He understands. “But I can’t have her. I am… afraid… of something I cannot explain or name.” I am hiccuping. I am crying. “He said if I didn’t stay away from her… he’d kill her… he’d kill my family. He proved it and killed one of my Pieces. I buried one of my Pieces, because I _loved_  a girl. So why is it that you–!” And here, the jealousy and hate do nothing more than crush my heart into my ribcage. “You are allowed to be next to her, to love her. But I am so afraid. I am so afraid.”

“Of who?” he asks softly. He strokes my back, soothingly, but I am doubled over with the pain that seems to puncture every blood vessel in my body. 

I cry. 

I cry until I can no longer feel the sun on my back. I cry, kneeling in that small bed until Steven puts my head on his lap. I cry until I’m not seventeen any longer, but four years old again, asking where my mom is in a thick, painful accent. All through it is Steven’s hand in mine, his thumb brushing my arm.

“WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN ME?!” I scream. I don’t know to whom. “I WOULD LOVE HER. I COULD LOVE HER.” More quietly, “I don’t want to die. I am so afraid. I want my mom.”

“I’m sorry,” I hear him whisper.

Then, I know that some of these tears on my cheeks are not my own.

*****

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been here,” I say. The memories of last time crowd into the back of my throat and I swallow them down so they can burn in my stomach instead. Wally’s not here. Even if he was here, I will not let him hurt me again. 

I’m not alone, though I’m walking by myself. Skyra and Skye wheel above me in chained loops. When I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle, Skye waves and floats down in large, lazy circles. Skyra gives her a full minute head start and then folds her wings abruptly. Slowly and then faster and faster, she spirals to the earth in a hurtling line, overtaking Skye. Right before hitting the ground, she angles forward and opens her wings, bracing her feet on the dirt to send her sliding a few feet away from me, dust staining the legs of her jeans. Skye lands next to me with a neat pat. 

“Mommy, your clothes are dirty now,” Skye says, slipping her small hand into mine. Skyra shrugs. Her jeans shimmer gold for a brief second and then dim; all the dirt has disappeared. 

“Clothes are just clothes,” the Swellow says dismissively. “Who are you using for the gym battle?”

“Torrent and Briar,” I answer back, taking off my backpack and taking their two PENs. “I’ll be back soon, so could you find a place to stay at the Piece Center?” Skyra nods and gestures to Skye. As they walk off, I see Skye wedge her head into the crook of Skyra’s elbow, nuzzling. Skyra runs a thumb over the Swablu small cheek, begrudgingly affectionate. 

The days are so long now. 

Torrent stretches when he comes out, long muscles forming the graceful curve from the inside of his wrist down his ribs to his ankles. Then he smiles at me and pulls me closer. I barely reach his collarbones now. 

“Ready, Lexa?” I nod and he grins at Briar. “Ready to roll, Briar boy?

"Try to keep up, babe,” Briar flips back. I’m surprised to see that Torrent doesn’t flush, but merely laughs, eyes shining like lakes do under stormy skies. 

Maybe we all move forward.

Petalburg Gym is dark, just like last time. Empty. Desolate. Warm with wood colors and the scent of cinnamon. 

“You’re back again.” Again, in the far shadows, Tavor waits for us. 

“I’m back,” I agree. 

“If you’re looking for a fight, you won’t find much of one here,” he says, throwing out a PAL. There’s a red flash and the Vigoroth I saw so long ago, when Torrent was still a Mudkip, stands before me. “I used to have three Pieces. Now I have two. Wally put down the Vigoroth I used to beat him with. He disconnected him with the PAL.”

“You stood up to him?” I ask, surprised. Torrent looks just as shocked. 

“I - I…” Tavor’s voice shrinks, “I was once… a strong man. As I… as I said I was… the last time I saw you.” He pauses and then nods. “Once a strong man.”

All of a sudden, my heart hurts and my hand flies up to claw at my chest. 

“Torrent,” I choke out, and he holds my other hand, squeezing. “What… why?”

“Pity, Baby Girl,” Briar whispers, shaking his head. Tavor waits for us, hair as thin as ever, baggy clothes rustling. “You’re feeling pity. Come on, Torrent. Let’s get this over with.”

Briar disappears and then reappears in front of the Vigoroth, impossibly fast, already halfway turning into a kick. His foot connects with a  _crack_ , and the Vigoroth is slammed into the wall, breaking the wood panels in half.

“Nice Mach  _Kick_ , you dumb Breloom,” Torrent catcalls. He elbows me, trying to get me to laugh, so I do. “Why don’t you  _Mach_  it better?”

“I’m not even going to grace your alarmingly terrible pun with an answer,” Briar retorts and dodges the Vigoroth creeping up to him. “Feint Attacks are really easy to see, Tav–!” In the next instant, the Vigoroth’s clawed gloves rip a line from the bottom of Briar’s ribcage to his shoulder. Molten gold spurts out, following his heartbeat, echoing the frantic beat of my own, but I stay calm.

“Briar, Mega Drain,” I say. The Vigoroth is dragged forward by the force of his own life sinking into Briar’s bronze knuckles. “Leech Seed.”

Torrent looks at me, confused.

“Why not finish him off?” he asks. 

“Leech Seed for the next Piece,” I say. Vigoroth coughs up blood, the room hazy with spores. Sharp blades of grass push up from the floor, centering around Briar, whose chest visibly knits together. It’s always thrilling to watch Nature bend to Briar’s or Torrent’s or anyone’s will. It’s heady. It’s terrifying. 

The Vigoroth makes a last-ditch lunge at Briar, but the Breloom lashes out first, fist connecting this time. Tavor recalls the Vigoroth before he hits the floor. There’s another flash and a giant, looming Piece has taken the Vigoroth’s place. The muscles along his bare arm and back ripple and when he widens his stance, the ground tremors under his weight. The sharp grass pays no attention to his stature and worms its way into the Slakoth’s legs.

“Shit,” Briar coughs. 

“Switch out, Briar,” I say. Briar limps back to me while Torrent walks out. I take one look at his chest and grind my teeth to stop them from chattering. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Baby Girl,” Briar says, accepting the Super Potion I hand to him. “It’ll heal.”

“He hit an artery.”

“Critical hit. Slash tends to do that.” He reaches out and streaks his blood on my face. It smells like vanilla. “Come on. Torrent’s waiting for you. Look ferocious.” I make the nastiest face I can and he grins, “There’s my girl.”

“Slakoth, Focus Punch,” Tavor says. The Slakoth slowly sways back and forth, rocking harder and harder to some terrifying end. Torrent pulls the dial on his gun and shoots a jet of water point blank at the Slakoth, knocking him off balance. “Get up, Slakoth. Focus Punch.” Torrent jumps forward, meaning to Tackle him, but Tavor barks, “Deflect!” The Slakoth blocks and Torrent bounces off, almost harmlessly. 

“This is going to take forever,” Torrent groans. 

“Forever’s better than dead, Marshtomp,” Briar growls. “Pay attention.”

“Pay attention to what?” Torrent asks, pointing the gun at the Slakoth again, and knocking him down with a Mud Shot. 

Is he trying to make me laugh?

“I’m not joking, Torrent,” and Briar’s voice has a dangerous edge to it. Tavor watches with glittering eyes. 

“Get up, Slakoth. Slack Off. Then, Focus Punch.”

Torrent sighs, deep in his chest. The Slakoth starts rocking again. I look up at Briar, and I hear the gears whirring in his head.

“Pay attention,” Briar smiles, showing all his teeth, eyes crackling. 

“Fine,” Torrent grumbles, and shoots his Water Gun while turning back. 

It misses the Slakoth by a millimeter and crashes into the back wall. Tavor smiles. 

“Focus Punch!”

I don’t give Briar a chance to react. I dive in front of Torrent, facing the oncoming hit, pushing Torrent behind me. I don’t close my eyes. 

“SLAKOTH, STOP!” The giant figure doesn’t; it’s too late to stop. But he does avert his path so that he roars past us, the energy of the missed blow hitting us so hard, my neck snaps back. I take Torrent’s jacket and I spin him around. 

“Water gun!” I shout. 

He doesn’t raise his gun. Instead, I hear the screech of pipes bending and a geyser of water from the ground blasts the Slakoth backwards like a rubber ball. The flood doesn’t stop. Pipes burst from several other places, hammering into the Piece. The water swirls up fast, until I’m clutching to Torrent, trying to stay on top of the water around my neck. 

“Torrent!” I look at him and find his eyes swirling grey, a frightening expression on his face. “Torrent!” I scream just as the water closes over my head. Suddenly, it drains, just as fast as it rose up. I cough the water out of my lungs. 

“Girl, are you crazy?!” Tavor shrieks, wading through the water in his broken gym. “Do you have a death wish?!”

I grab his hand, laughing. I don’t know why. 

“There are worse things than death, Tavor,” I manage to say between coughing and laughing. “And the easy thing to do would have been to kill me. Gym Leader,” I hug him on impulse, grinning, “You are not a coward.”

When I pull back, Tavor looks at me with a strange expression. It seems like he’s looking at a different person, a different time. 

“You remind me of my son,” he says quietly. But in a moment, his usual expression comes back. “No, I suppose I’m not a coward.”

Something wet and vanilla-scented splashes the back of my head, and I turn to see grass blades, as sharp as needles and as thick as cables, pierce through Torrent’s arms and legs. A couple go through his stomach and rib cage. 

“BRIAR!”

But he’s not paying any attention to me.

“What did I tell you, Torrent?” Briar hisses softly while Torrent vomits blood. “Who is my priority?”

“Lexa,” Torrent gurgles, bubbles of golden blood floating to the wet ground. 

“Briar, stop!” I trip over obstacles trying to reach them. 

“Who is your priority?”

“Lexa. It was an accident–”

“She almost  _died_ , you arrogant, unloved–”

I remember Steven. I reach up and seize the clothes around Briar’s neck and pull him down until I’ve locked gazes with him.

“I said stop, Breloom,” I snarl. The grass retreats as he looks away almost immediately. 

“Yes, Alexa. Sorry, Alexa.”

I let go of his clothes and stumble to Torrent, hurriedly taking out the tiny vial of Hyper Potion that I always keep in my pocket. I open his jaw and spray it directly into his mouth. He convulses and I see his eyes roll back into his head as the holes in his body close. 

In a moment, he opens his eyes, the grey color foggy. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say severely. “You were trying to make me laugh, weren’t you?”

Torrent shut his eyes again.

“I didn’t want to see you sad. You were sad for so long back in Lavaridge. I didn’t want that to happen again.”

“And you almost got killed because of it.”

“No. I almost got  _you_  killed because of it,” he says, “I’m sorry, Lexa. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I don’t know what to say. We are both always more concerned of the other. “Briar, babe,” he continues, “you okay there?”

“Skyra’s going to kill me,” Briar says. “But yeah. I’m good now. Thanks, Baby Girl. The energy went a bit haywire.” As Briar bends over to pick Torrent up, Tavor sticks the Balance Sticker on my face.

“Balance Sticker, Facade TM. Please get out of my Gym.”

We walk out and I look behind me to see him watching us. I raise a tentative hand, and just as hesitantly, he raises his back. 

“There are worse things than death, Gym Leader Tavor,” I call, and face forward. 

Outside, in the bright sun, Briar takes a moment to press his forehead against Torrent’s and take a long shuddering breath. 

“Aw, that’s hella gay, Briar,” Torrent mutters.

“Never stopped you, did it?”

Torrent laughs as best as he can with his lung partially punctured. 

“So you knew all along?”

“All along,” Briar says. I look away, not wanting to embarrass him. I hear Torrent wipe Briar’s eyes very softly. “I’m sorry for… a lot of things. Maybe in a different life.”

“Not even in a different life. You know that, Briar,” Torrent says, disapprovingly. “Fucking near-death experiences make all of you weird. The funny thing is, you’re the one that caused that near death experience. Skyra’s gonna–”

I turn just in time to see Briar kiss him. Torrent’s hand falters and then curls in Briar’s hair and his eyes slide shut with an expression I’ve never seen before. Then, Briar freezes and drops Torrent before he’s smashed back into the Gym by Skyra’s dive bomb. 

When I reach Torrent, he’s laughing. He pulls me closer and kisses me, too, just not with the same expression. His tongue licks the roof of my mouth. 

“Just so it isn’t weird,” he says, snickering. 

“I think it’s supposed to be weird, regardless, Torrent,” I say propping him up. Skyra strides up to us and sits down, hard. 

“Briar’s an idiot. You okay, Torrent?”

“I’m alright. Lexa almost died. I deserved it.”

I’m pulled to her chest in a rare, fierce hug. 

“You’re not mad at Torrent and Briar for kissing?” I ask, my voice muffled by the wings that wrap around me. I reach around and scratch her between the shoulder blades, where she can’t reach. 

“Different species get upset for different things. We all have different customs. Besides, Briar is my… soulmate. I guess that would be the closest word. Our hearts are made of the same material, connected with the same string. It’ll always pull us together, no matter what life. Although right now,” she’s angry when she pulls away, “he can scrape himself off the wall.”

In one motion, she scoops up Torrent and sets a straight course for the Piece Center. 

I pick my way over to Briar, who lies in the rubble and grass. Already, the plants here are greener and taller. I lie down beside him and he tucks his arm under my head in a makeshift pillow. 

“Why did you kiss him, Briar?” I ask after a while, confused. This is all very strange. He lifts himself slightly and pecks me on the mouth. I’m surprised. He’s never done that before. 

“I was marking him." 

When I feel my lip, something like peach chapstick comes off on my fingers. It tastes sweet. 

"You’re just like a giant fruit,” I say. “But that’s not the real reason.”

“Adrenaline rushing. I almost killed my best friend because I let emotions overcome me. My energy spilled out, just like Torrent’s did when he was protecting you. I’ll stabilize in a while. Or maybe I just kissed him for the hell of it. I’m not really sure, Baby Girl. I like knowing the reason for everything, but sometimes, there just isn’t a reason.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Why? Is it confusing you?”

“Sorta,” I say and snuggle closer to him. Overhead, a vine blooms in vibrant colors. 

“In the end, Baby Girl, logically, it doesn’t matter. Kiss whoever you want. Boys, girls, and everywhere in between and beyond. Pieces and people. If anyone judges you, I’ll eat them.”

“You’re vegetarian.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a decomposer. I eat dead things. The point is, kissing is a form of love. Whether innocent or not, who can make you feel bad for that? As long as you don’t broach upon the rights of others, like Tavor did, or used to do, with that Vigoroth, and as long as there’s consent, do whatever you want. And to hell with anyone who’s narrow-minded enough to think otherwise.”

“That’s easy. I like that.”

He chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

A long, lovely silence. 

“You told him. You told Torrent.”

“Yes, I did. Near-death experiences do that sometimes.”

“I’m glad you told him.”

I realize, much later, when we’re walking back hand-in-hand, that I  _have_  seen that expression that Torrent made while kissing Briar. 

Just on someone else. 


	25. Clockwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you play League of Legends, you’ll get the references in the later part of this chapter. She’s my favorite champion.

Wade Tobias Terence Lytton has nine easy to reach vital points. It will take approximately a fifth of a second for me to reach him if he attempts to do anything. But Skyra glaring daggers at him and Aiden is clenching and unclenching his hands, so I don’t think he will try. If Torrent were here, Wade would have a hand around his throat. Good thing Torrent is healing. I told Skye to keep him in the room. 

 

Wade isn’t scared, though. Of course, he is someone who flourishes under stressful situations, who molds alliances during war. He owns the largest energy provider company and is second in technology only to Devon Corps. 

And he has a shit-baby son named Wally; I haven’t forgotten. 

“Then he threw the PAL at me and it clamped around my wrist. Skyra took it off as fast as she could, but it left a scar,” Baby Girl explains, but she doesn’t show him the snaking defect and hides it behind her back instead.

Wade rubs his watch, steadily looking at Alexa with unsettling green eyes. His hair is the same color and definitely artificial, as the roots are grey. She doesn’t look away, straight-backed, chin high.

“If you’re expecting an apology—“

“I’m not. I’m not even sure why you’re here.”

At that, he falls silent again. His voice is plain, especially for a multi-billionaire. I was expecting someone more substantial. More memorable than this man who is neither tall nor short, who wears a clean-cut suit, but with no accessories besides his watch.

“I’m also aware that my daughter has caused you trouble.”

“She did, but Steven Stone talked to her and you might want to check her into a burn ward after  _that_.”

I choke to suppress a laugh. Skyra shoots me a murderous scowl, her wings raised to make herself look bigger. She did it when she was a Taillow, and even though she’s big now, sometimes, she still does it unconsciously. 

“So,” he says, leaning across the small table at the back of Piece Center, steepling his fingers, “so, then. What can I do for you?”

“What do you mean?” Alexa inches away from Aiden, who is glowing, literally, with rage and a heated bloodstream. “You’re the one that found me right after I beat Tavor’s Gym.”

“What can I do for you?” he repeats.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t want anything? You don’t want me to buy you anything?”

“Buy? I have Steven’s ring and his credit card number. What do I need to buy?”

“Passage. Hit-men. Cloned Pieces from Kanto and Johto. Prostitutes,” he leans back, “USBs.”

“Are you a mob leader? What’s a prostitute?” 

“Interesting. Aren’t you also friends with Mr. Birch?”

“Who, Brendan’s dad?”

“No. Brendan. Recently-incarcerated Mr. Birch. Multitude-of-published-papers-on-the-workings-of-the-abnormal-human-mind Mr. Birch.”

“He’s not in jail. He’s getting help at Steven’s hospital.”

“And I’ve noticed you’re at first-name basis with Dr. Stone.”

“What does that matter?”

“Are you two in a relationship?”

“Yeah?”

“No,” I interrupt. “Friendships don’t count, Lexa. They’re not dating.”

“Just friends, but you have his ring and credit card.”

“Wait a second,” Alexa stands up, “I just realized I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”

“That’s true.” Wade fishes in his pocket and pulls out a USB and slides it over to Alexa. “It’s the Surf USB. That’s all I wanted to give to you anyway. That, and to ask if you needed anything. The rest was just… curiosity.”

“You want to do a favor for me as an apology?” Alexa asks, pocketing the USB. Torrent will be happy with that; he has been aching to learn the move.

“Not as an apology. I won’t apologize for anything my son has done. His actions, his consequences. But yes. A favor. For my curiosity.”

“You should spend more time with Wally, President Lytton.”

“No,” he responds flatly. “My son is… unnatural.”

“Because he doesn’t spend enough time with you or anyone,” Alexa counters earnestly, hands flat against the table and looking Wade in the eye. 

“You seem oddly invested in this.”

“My dad did the same and look at me now,” she says, sweeping her hands wide. 

“I see a well-adjusted little girl whose only fault is the inability to recognize the status of whom she is talking to, which is actually more of a blessing in this situation and many others, if Dr. Stone and Mr. Birch have anything to say about it. It’s refreshing.”

“Oh!” She flops down in her seat. “Well-adjusted?”

“Perhaps  _genuine_  is the correct word.”

“Wally needs you. I think he does all this stuff for attention from you.” She frowns, “That isn’t to say, the next time I see him, I’m punching him in the face again, to hell with his hemophilia.”

“You  _punched_  my  _hemophiliac_  son in the  _face_?”

“Your  _hemophiliac_  son  _electrocuted_  me,” she says with the same tone. 

“Touché. I was told that you would be a lot quieter than this. Docile.”

“I just had a Gym battle. The adrenaline is still in my system. And… and I’m happier.” She looks at the palms of her hands. “I don’t know why. I still miss Cobalt and Lana, and I killed Flannery’s last Piece, and Brendan’s still sick, but… I don’t know. Flannery said there were things worse than death. And that made me feel better. And Tavor stood up to your son. You should spend more time with him, President.”

Wade idly stirs a spoon in his tea. The light citrus smell curls around our heads.

“Do you like Lady Grey?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“I like oolong. It reminds me of home.”

“Why don’t you go home, Alexandra Oak?” He leans back, eyes subdued. 

“Because my father is here and I want to bring him back to my mother. Because I need to know what happened to my brother. Because Hoenn has PALs, President Lytton, and they are horrifying.” 

“What can you do to stop a culture so steeped in capturing Pieces easily and readily?”

“I will challenge the Piece Keepers. I will become champion. I will outlaw PALs.”

“You say it like it’s easy, Alexandra. You need money for that. Connections. This is the livelihood of Devon Corporations we’re talking about.”

“I have Steven. I have Brendan.”

“Alexandra Oak…” he says her name as a question. “Oak. Oak. Where have I heard that name before?”

“Maybe my grandfather. Professor Oak?”

“No. Not that. Well, I do know your grandfather, and that you’ve come from another dimension. I’ve known for quite some— oh. Oak.” He pulls out a small book that looks like a diary. And then another. And then another. “Oak. About two years ago.” He ruffles through the pages until he finds the right journal entry. “July 17th. Asher Oak dies in a mysterious accident that President Stone is paying money to cover-up. Interesting. Steven Stone much less depressed than he should be.” He looks back up at Alexa, who is staring at him with wide-eyes. “Yes, I see the resemblance. Same colored eyes. Who is your father?”

“You knew my brother?” Alexa whispers. Her fingers are clutching my sleeve. 

“I knew  _about_  your brother. I still know about your brother. Devon is a rival corporation, so I did research on that entire business. I know the full story, if not the intentions. But it seems,” he says, looking at Alexa’s face, “that I have found a bartering chip.”

Alexa’s hand flies to Aiden’s arm before he can complete his motion of standing up. 

“Sit down,” she says, with steel in her voice. He does so, eyes flickering like fire. “What can I do for your information, President Lytton?”

“You are close with Steven, yes?”

“Close enough.”

“Then do me a favor and ask him to find out what his father is doing with the Devon Goods.”

“What if he says no?”

“It’s alright, then. I just want you to ask.”

“I thought they were building a ship with it. Or a submarine or something like that.”

“Oh, Alexandra,” he laughs, “They’re building something… but it definitely is not a ship.”

“What else could they be building?”

“Who knows? But, President Stone did invent the PAL. And that is… ominous.”

“You’re on my side, aren’t you? You would support me if I became champion.”

“Devon would go down and I would rise to the top. I’m not on your side because of some inner morality. I’m on your side for other reasons.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Alright. Now, for your brother. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Like I said, I don’t know why any of these things happened. But as far as I know, Asher Oak arrived in this world at some time and was assigned as a PAL tester by President Stone. He also appeared at many parties with Steven Stone, who confirmed to be dating him. He swept through the gyms one by one, never having trouble, and had no trouble with the Piece Keepers. And then he battled against Steven Stone and lost.”

“He battled Steven?” Alexa asked, incredulous. Steven never was very honest. Omission of a fact is still a lie. 

“He did. Apparently, he fully lost his mind that day, although many people say he was very… strange before. No. Psychopathic? Anyway, he wandered down to Petalsburg and ordered Gym Leader Tavor to give him a rematch. The Gym Leader refused and Asher struck him and soon after, ordered his Pieces to kill Tavor. At that moment, his Pieces rebelled and turned on him.” Wade pauses, studying Alexa’s face. “And they ate him.”

“Enough!” I say, standing up. The wooden table beneath my hands starts to grow bark and roots into the tiled floor. At Aiden’s end, the table smolders, leaving black char marks and glowing cracks. Behind me, I feel the wind rush past my ears, and I know Skyra is gritting her teeth. 

“Sit down!” Alexa says, to all of us this time. I do, but the top of the table already starts to sprout little, red-capped mushrooms. They radiate death. 

“I’m going to check on Torrent,” Skyra growls and stalks off. 

“You go, too, Aiden. Cuddle next to Torrent or you’ll set fire to everything.”

Aiden flushes, making the air around his head waver in the heat. Then he walks off, leaving just me and Baby Girl. 

“You have impressive control over your Pieces considering you’re a small child,” Wade says nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just revealed that Ash’s own Pieces had consumed him. 

“They brought his ashes for the funeral. He couldn’t have been eaten.”

“They lied to you, Alexandra. Are you a big enough girl to handle the truth? Because they ate him until there was only bloodstains on the floor. Even the Pieces that are only supposed to eat plants and nuts and berries all forced bite after bite down their throats and turned him into energy.”

“I  _am_  a big enough girl,” she says quietly. And that one sentence makes me want to cry.

“You must be careful around President Stone and his family,” he says, standing up. By the doorway, his bodyguards scramble to get his coat and open the door. “They silenced what happened to your brother. And maybe they will silence you.” He rummages in his pocket again and pulls out a card. “This is my personal phone. Call me if there is something neither Steve nor Brendan can get you.”

“Thank you for your service, President Lytton. I will remember you when I am champion.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, turning and walking towards the door, “What a fierce face.”

*****

Mauville has changed. 

Already, houses have been built in place of holographic walls. The scaffolding of unfinished buildings reach into the sky in some unchecked ambition. Best of all are the people. Workers scaling sides of houses, children skirting the danger zones. The sky is blue. A natural blue. 

Too bad Skye and Aiden are inside. They would have loved to see a city being reborn. Both for different reasons. 

“The air tastes fine,” Skyra mumbles more to herself than me. I kiss her and she starts. “What?” she asks. 

“Nothing.”

“Girl!” 

We turn around to see Wattson striding towards us. It still looks like rolls of fat are strapped to his body, but his beard and thinning hair is as white as Skye’s wings and his eyes are a sharp blue. 

“Girl, you’ve come to visit! When Tavor said you’d be looping around my town, I was ecstatic? Ha! Static! Get it?”

Torrent, who usually laughs at these tasteless bits of poison - I mean, jokes - doesn’t make a sound. We’re all remembering a girl with fearless blue eyes. 

“My name is Alexandra, Wattson,” she responds, and I can tell by her voice that she still hasn’t forgiven the Gym Leader. But he doesn’t seem to notice or mind. 

“Alexandra and Pieces! Welcome to our humble, progressing town! It will have the newest technology, while still keeping in touch with nature. Clean energy all around! Well, I mean,” and here, Watson folds his arms, tumbling onward with his speech as if he has rehearsed it, “we would have clean energy if we could turn the generator on. There’s an island a little way off from here called New Mauville. A lot of powerful electric Pieces live there. A lot of not powerful Pieces, too. The point it, a lot of Pieces live there, which means oodles of electricity gets casually thrown off.”

“So you collect it,” I complete, while Skyra shudders at the thought of that much electricity. 

“Of course I do, little bird,” he exclaims. Odd name choice. “Who wouldn’t? And I would go there myself, except–” and here he falters. “I’m…" 

Baby Girl starts to rub her scar.

"I’m not really good at saying sorry, lad.”

“I didn’t come here to hear it, Watson. I’m just passing through.”

“But I’m sorry. I am.” There is no trace of happiness in his face. If you look closely, you can see the faded indents that the nosepieces of the hologram glasses left behind. His eyes are clear and coherent. ”I found her grave. There’s an Oran sapling there, now. You must have planted it, huh, little lad?“

Alexa nods. 

"Yeah, yeah. Of course you did. I put a bucket by there. Iron, of course. It seems like some of the children there take turns watering it everyday. I didn’t know they enjoyed that kind of stuff. Well, frankly, I didn’t know they existed but well, now I do.” He took a deep breath and moved onward. “And I stopped using PALs.” Alexa looks up sharply. “I’ve been training Pieces that I caught in PENs. A girl and a boy, uh, Piece. Well, they aren’t little anymore. They evolved recently. Roe and Ren. They’re unlikely siblings. They met when they were young and– well, you wouldn’t want to here the whole story! They make me walk everyday and frankly, it’s killing me. In a good way! Uh. The point is, I don’t have Surf. And even if I did, well,” he patted his ample stomach. “I’m not exactly in the best condition. I’m fat. I’ve been trying to reach Champion Stone, but it seems like he’s been busy. And I’m trying my best to get stronger but–”

“I’ll turn on the generator for you, Wattson,” Alexa says, her voice much gentler than it has been so far. “What did you do with your PAL caught Pieces?”

“You will? That’s great! I’m–”

“What did you do with your PAL caught Pieces?” she repeats patiently. 

“They’re… They’re on my desk. In their PALs. Releasing them kills them so I thought it was better off to–”

”Release them,“ Skyra interrupts and I put a hand on her wrist to remind her where she is. But her heart is calm and steady. Drumbeats. "Don’t keep them another day in the PAL. You’ll be killing them, but those bodies you see are just empty shells. Their spirit will rise and then fall to the ground. You’ll find them in dew, in oceans, and maybe you’ll find them again in the eyes of another Piece. The body is temporary but the spirit is eternal. You have to release them. You have to.”

“I – I will,” the Gym Leader replies, surprised. “What’s your name?”

“Skyra.”

“I will, Skyra.”

My eyes are caught on Baby Girl’s. Bright and big and the sunlight glints off them until they are their own sunny day. 

“Recycled,” Alexa says. “Not really dead, right?”

“Dead. But not gone,” Skyra pulls her hat down further, which she does when she’s embarrassed. “My mother used to say it to me a lot. She said the spirits looked like rain and that only certain people could see it. I never believed her. She was a shaman and chief, and she was weak and crippled, so I despised her but,“ she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks straight at Alexa, “But I was wrong. She was physically weak and I hated her for that. But she could see more than I can ever hope to.”

“I’ll turn on the generator for you, Wattson,” Alexa repeats, turning back to the Gym Leader. But this time, her eyes are sparkling and she is much happier than I’ve seen in a long time. “But you have to do me a favor.”

“I will do everything in my power.”

“Do you have large screens in this world? Like LCD screens but they take up entire walls. So you can make phone calls and see other people or watch TV or something like that.”

“Yes, something like that. You mean like monitors, right? They’re fairly common.”

“Would the hospital in Mossdeep have them?”

“Steven Stone’s hospital? Mossdeep Neurological Hospital and Psychiatric Care Unit?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t doubt it. This is Steven Stone we’re talking about. He invented the wall monitors when he was twelve.”

“After I come back, I need you to place a call to Steven. Alright? I have someone I need to talk to.”

“Is that… Is that it? That’s all?”

“That’s all,” she says, turning on her heel and walking down to the waterside. 

Torrent grins wider and wider the closer we get to the lake. 

“What did Surf teach you, Torrent?” Baby Girl asks, picking her way through the underbrush. “I mean, you always knew how to swim. The only difference is that you’ll have to carry us.”

Aiden, of course, had opted to stay in his PEN, far from the water. I had forbid Skyra and Skye to come to an  _electric_  generator, so it was just Alexa, Torrent, and I. 

“I think,” he answers, “that all the USBs teach you a way of seeing. It’s like half-vision. A way of not seeing and seeing at the same time. You know how all the trees Foxglove Cut turned into the gold energy stuff?” Alexa nodded. “The same with Rock Smash, too. If you hit a  _certain_  spot, things will turn into energy. It’s sorta like that, but with Fly and Surf, you see where the energy is the thickest, and how to — well, maybe it’ll be easier to show you. The first thing I learned, was this.” He throws both his guns into the air. Halfway up, they start to meld together, much like Cobalt’s shield used to crumple and smooth out at will. When it comes down, it is no longer a pair of guns, but a surfboard. He wades into the water, laying the board flat, and waves for us to come. I pick up Alexa and jump onto the surface, thinking it will plunge into the water. It doesn’t; it barely moves.

“Woah,” Alexa marvels, jumping up and down. Once again, I expect the thin board to capsize, but it merely sends out gentle ripples. “Torrent, you’re amazing. How are you doing this?”

“Energy. You can’t see it, but I can. And I can manipulate it. I think, that’s what we’ve been doing all this time, when we use Water Gun, and Flamethrower, and that stuff, but now I can actually see it.”

I dip my hand into the water and find it almost rubbery. Could this energy be the same material spirits are made of? Where did this energy come from? And manipulation of energy doesn’t explain how there is always a seed whenever I reach into my back pocket, no matter the circumstances. My father would have told me such questions were for humans, and that I could be exiled for asking them. 

“Are you okay, Briar?” Alexa asks, startling me. I smile.

“Are you in tune with my heart, too?” I respond, smoothing the worried wrinkle in between her eyebrows. 

“Of course,” she says, “maybe not as much as Torrent, but you are still my Piece.”

“I’m alright. I’m just thinking of many things. As usual.”

She grins.

“I like that about you,” she says and turns back to Torrent. The Marshtomp looks over her head at me, eyes questioning. I wink at him and he snorts, rolling his eyes. He no longer goes red in the face. 

Slowly, the surfboard starts to move. Eventually, it accelerates until we’re skipping over the water like a well-thrown stone. We reach the small, hunched building in no time. 

“Briar, get off,” Torrent says, and I do so, landing lightly on the sand. He turns the board and this time, the lake starts to make waves, undulating in size until they’re ten, twenty feet high. Alexa screams in excitement, clutching onto Torrents arm when he pulls both of them to their feet. I catch a glimpse of them both. It’s a memory I wish I can keep forever, the sun glittering on the drops of water in their hair, Torrent leaning into the turn of the surfboard, and Alexa laughing, finally laughing. Then, they drop across the wave, cutting across the crest. The sun shines through, illuminating them in a turquoise light with only the shadow of fish and the Pieces that live in the lake blocking the clear water. 

The wave deposits them near the shore and they are both laughing hard. Torrent picks her up in one arm, steps  _on top_  of the water, picks up the board in the other, and walks back to me, the lake lapping at his shoes. 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” I comment mildly, catching Alexa when he throws her at me. 

“Me neither. I’m so glad I learned that move. It’s gonna be great when Skyra learns Fly.”

Alexa wriggles out of my arms.

“Wait, wait, does this count as a new area?” She pulls out her Icon, which I haven’t seen for a very long time, and presses the screen a couple of times. “It does!”

“Please note,” the GLaDOS states, “that we have added a consequence for failure. Any contact with the chamber floor will result in an unsatisfactory mark on your official testing record, followed by death.”

“You see, this is why I never pull you out,” Alexa says, disapproving. 

“I have not seen the light of day for quite some time. I need to say all the things I have been meaning to say to you.”

“Fine,” Alexa relents, “you can talk while we look for the generator.”

GLaDOS does not stop talking for a long time in her detached, mechanized voice. I mean, really. She doesn’t stop talking. And she has no need to take a breath, so she keeps going on and on and on. 

“There was even going to be a party for you,” it says, “A big party that all your friends were invited to. I invited your best friend, the Companion Cube. Of course, he couldn’t come because you murdered him. All your other friends couldn’t come, either, because you don’t have any other friends because of how unlikable you are. It says so right here in your personnel file: ‘Unlikable. Liked by no one. A bitter, unlikable loner, whose passing shall not be mourned. Shall NOT be mourned.’ That’s exactly what it says. Very formal. Very official. It also says you were adopted, so that’s funny, too.”

Alexa doesn’t seem to mind, though. We walk through the dim halls of the building, flashes of electricity briefly illuminating our way. 

“Did you know you can donate one or all of your vital organs to the Aperture Science Self Esteem Fund for Girls? It’s true — true — true — true.”

Alexa shakes the Icon lightly.

“GLaDOS?” she calls, shaking it again, “You okay?”

“ _Why are you running?_ ” says a voice that is definitely not GLaDOS’. Alexa shakes the Icon again.

“GLaDOS, is that you?”

“ _Why are they running?_ ” asks the voice. It’s definitely coming from GLaDOS though, and sounds robotic. At the same time, it possesses a strange, almost musical quality to it. 

“We’re not running,” Torrent states, looking around. “Come out and play.”

“A ghost Piece?” Alexa asks, holding GLaDOS tightly to her chest.

“No. I don’t think so,” I muse, looking at GLaDOS’ wavering screen.

“ _This is a fun game._ ” From the darkness of the hallways, a Magnemite that seems to be about twelve human years floats to us. As most first evolutions, she’s wearing a plain tee-shirt and shorts, grey-colored. Two horseshoe magnets orbit her body and three screws swing around her head like a makeshift halo. One of her eyes shine red. But when she blinks, they glow blue. The other eye seems to be more robotic than not, with it’s circular eyepiece pulsing a consistent red. “ _This is very exciting._ ” The air tastes like ozone for a second, and then an arc of electricity sizzles out of a magnet and hits Torrent. His eyes light up while the Thunder Shock writhes around him. Even though we know it can’t hurt him, Baby Girl and I both hold our breath. “ _Interesting._ ” One eye turns to look at Alexa. The other whirrs counterclockwise. “ _No. You will shut down._ ”

Suddenly, GLaDOS sparks and fizzes. The Magnemite cocks her head.

“ _Why does it fight me?_ ” the Magnemite sings.

“You think you’re doing damage? Two plus two is — is — ten,“ the Icon crackles and spits out a couple of chips. We exchange worried glances. “IN BASE FOUR, I’M FINE.”

“ _Motivating._ ”

“Would you like to come with us?” Alexa questions, her hopes lilting her voice up. “We’re aiming for the Piece Keepers. We use PENs.”

The screws above the Magnemite’s head spin until they’re blurring. They stop abruptly. 

“ _Yes. I am your weapon. I am Capala. Catch me._ ”

Alexa fumbles through her bag for a PEN. Capala floats forward and one of the magnets press the button. She disappears in a flash of red light. Alexa lets her out immediately. 

“Can you use my phone to talk?” Alexa requests, “I don’t think GLaDOS likes you using the Icon.”

“ _Winding._ ” Capala is silent. Then, there is a click from Alexa’s iPhone. “ _We are as one._ ”

“Let’s be honest. Neither one of us knows what that thing does. Just put it in the corner and I’ll deal with it later,” GLaDOS says.

“I think that’s enough of you for today.” Alexa closes GLaDOS and shoves it deep into her bag. “Do you know where the generator is, Capala? We need to turn it on.”

“ _Yes._ ” But she doesn’t say anything else. 

“Can you show us where it is?” I finally ask after a minute of silence. 

“ _There is no need._ ” The lights flicker on and deep within the building, we can hear the hum of a newly activated generator. 

“Will it stay on?” Torrent asks. 

“ _I know what makes it tick. I know how to make the ticking stop. I know how to make the ticking never end._ ” She floats towards the exit, turning to make sure we are following. “ _We go._ ”

*****

” _Delicious,_ “ Capala says when the gigantic screen powers on. I pull her out of view of the camera and she slides along easily, not resisting. Skyra sidles away from her.

“Come on, Skyra,” I say, “Capala’s nice.”

“ _Yes. I am a nice girl,_ ” Capala offers. 

“Robot Pieces are creepy,” I hear Skyra mumble. She flutters to the other side of the room. 

“She doesn’t mean it, Capala.”

“ _The ring is sad._ ” The three screw orbiting her head spin slowly, despondently. 

“It’s alright, Capala. Can you keep Skye company?”

“ _We go.”_  She walks out the doors. 

“Dr. Stone, please. Say Alexa called." 

Suddenly, the large screen flicks to a video feed of an office. It looks real enough to be a continuation of the room, if not for it’s different style of furnishings. Large, black bookcases line the walls. Certificates and diplomas are framed and hung on the side next to a door. Bits of sea glass hang in jars by the window, throwing colorful light over the large desk. Through one of the open windows, we can see the sea, clear and beautiful. The soft sound of the waves and children laughing can be heard.

“Oceans everywhere,” Aiden mutters. 

Abruptly, the windows fold back with a mechanized whir. The space grows wider and wider until we can see part of the rocky coast line, and even some of the children. There is a rush of clanking, and Steven drops in through the aperture. Bastion flies in a moment later. 

“The next time he calls me to ask for information, I swear I will take your saber and  _give him a prefrontal lobotomy with it,_ ” Steven fumes, ripping off his jacket and throwing it on his chair. 

“Steven, we have company.”

Steven glances at the wall and jumps when he sees Alexa. 

“Dear  _Arceus_ , Alexa! You scared me!”

“I heard you invented this when you were twelve.”

“Well, yes, but — I mean.  _Cristo_ , it’s good to see you.”

“Really.” Her voice is smooth. “I want to talk to Brendan.”

“Alexa,” Steven sighs, “I told you—“

“There’s a lot of things you didn’t tell me, Steven.”

“Someone’s in trouble,” Aiden sing-songs savagely. I shoot him a look and he just shrugs. He’s enjoying this.

“I don’t understand—“

“I had a chat with President Lytton.”

Steven sighs. 

“I didn’t think that the things I left out were important—“

“My brother was eaten!”

“And what does that matter?!” he walks up to the screen, close enough so that we could reach out and touch him. “What does it matter how he died?!”

“Because that funeral was a fake!” Alexa shouted. “But those ashes were human ashes, because they were examined by the coroner! Who did you kill?! Whose ashes does my mom have in her living room?!”

“You are asking the wrong person for that, Alexa. I had nothing to do with—“

“But you did battle him, right?!”

At this, Steven takes a step back, as if she had punched him. Then, he advances, step by step, until he is right in front of the monitor. It looks like he is standing in front of her. She looks up at him, hellfire in her eyes. 

“Yes. I did battle him. And he lost.”

“Let me talk to Brendan,” Alexa hisses. 

“I am not keeping him from you because I am jealous, Alexa. I’m keeping him from you because he is—“

“When I become champion,” she breathes, jabbing a finger into the screen, “I will ruin you, if you do not let me speak with Brendan now.”

“Alexa,” I say, but Bastion throws up a steel plated wing, blocking Steven from the screen. When the Skarmory looks at Alexa, her yellow eyes are sharp and angry. 

“I will connect you to Brendan now,” she says. The screen goes black. 

“Alexa, that was unnecessary,” I reprimand, but she isn’t listening to me, because in the next instance, Brendan shows up on the screen. 

“Brendan?”

He is standing by the window. There is a bed in the background, but it’s bolted to the floor. Listlessly, he slides his eyes over to Alexa. But he doesn’t move. His arms are bandaged, and he’s wearing a simple shirt and shorts. His skin is as dark as ever. 

“Brendan,” Alexa calls again. She puts a hand to the screen, as if she can touch him. 

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he says sullenly. His voice sounds scratchy. 

“Who told you that?”

He taps his temple and remains silent. 

“Brendan, how have you been?” 

“Broken,” he answers and then looks away. “I’ll probably be punished for talking to you.”

“Punished by whom?”

This time, he doesn’t even move. 

“Brendan, I miss you.”

His eyes are softer when he turns. 

“You shouldn’t have called me, Alex. You should have listened to Steven. I’m disconnecting now.” He walks over to the screen, matches his hand on hers, and kisses where her mouth would have been if he had been in front of her. The screen disconnects to black, and then, again, to Steven’s office. 

Steven is sitting on the beige couch, hands folded over his stomach, eyes closed. There are dark circles under his eyes. Bastion is nowhere to be seen. 

It is silent for a long time. I want to go to Alexa, but I feel that’s not what will be best for her right now. Skyra meets my eyes and I nod towards the door. She nods back and drags Aiden out. 

“What can I do for you, Champion Alexandra Oak,” he says bitterly, eyes still closed. 

“President Lytton asks what President Stone is doing with the Devon Goods,” Alexa says. I can’t see her face, but her voice is hollow. 

“I wouldn’t know.”

There is a long, aching silence. Alexa lowers herself to the ground and sits crosslegged in front of the screen. I feel every muscle in my body screaming to go there and pick her up, but I resist because I love her too much. 

Instead, it is Steven who stands up and crouches in front of her with a sigh. He makes motions like he is wiping away her tears, and she drags the palm of her hands across her eyes. He talks softly to her until she raises her head. 

“I forget you’re a child, sometimes,” he says. 

“I’m not,” she says. “No. I’m all grown up now.”


	26. Reparation

Do you know how in the Piece - I mean - Pokémon video games they always say like, “Wait! Don’t go in the tall grass alone! It’s dangerous!" 

Yeah. Heed that warning. 

It’s not because any wild Pieces attacked me or anything. Most of the ones I see look up at me and then look down, eyes reflecting the moon that lights up everything until it is almost like a cloudy day. A young Electrike actually sleepily toddled up to me before and thumped down by my leg. I petted her soft head (green hair, like Lana’s, but no fingernail polish) and waited for a couple moments before moving on. 

No. The wild grass is dangerous because I keep tripping. I guess I don’t usually notice it, because Torrent and Briar and Aiden are always looking out for me. It doesn’t matter where I put my feet. Briar will always make the grass unfurl or Torrent will lightly swing me up with one strong arm so that my feet just clear any knots or Aiden will gently nudge me away from holes. But alone: that’s a whole different story. I keep tripping and stumbling over depressions in the ground and if there had ever been a point where I should have turned back, I had crossed that line when I tumbled into a river and got back out again to keep going. 

Look… I wanted to be alone. Crazy, right? I never wanted to be alone after Ash… died. But now I do. Just for a little bit, anyway. Just enough until I can scrape my knees and tumble in the dirt and maybe find a river to jump in. I put everybody in their PENs back at camp, except Briar and Skyra. But even at this distance, if I shout, they’ll hear me. 

And then I will be safe once more. 

I can be a little unsafe for awhile, right? 

Suddenly, the western sky explodes in lightning. I fall down on my butt but quickly stand up again, because there isn’t a cloud in the sky, even though my hair is standing on end with static. That didn’t look like a simple Thunder Bolt. I bet Steven’s ring that that was Thunder. And what Piece around here knows that move. I quickly stumble over a log and scramble my way over to the direction of the attack. It’s not long before a beam of bright, green-tinged light shoots towards the sky. Once again, I mark my place in the stars and run towards it. 

"I’m not done yet.”

Those are human voices. When I silently part the grass, I almost call out his name in shock. But at the last second, I stuff my knuckles into my mouth. 

“Wynne, is this necessary?” Steven asks, rubbing his temple. There’s a shallow cut on his cheek that dribbles blood down to his white collar. He doesn’t seem to notice though. 

“Of course it’s necessary. I’m fighting for the company,” Wynne responds, brushing off the dirt from her hair. In front of her stands a beautiful woman with long green hair and a shimmering, floating dress. Her posture is picture perfect and her face looks like it was shaped for a smile. But I can tell by her eyes that’s she’s not a human. She’s a Piece. A PAL-caught piece. “Gardevoir is still standing. And I have an Altaria and a Magneton left.”

“Of course. That’s exactly what you’re fighting for,” Steven says sarcastically. Or at least I think it’s sarcastic. From here, I’m close enough to see his pale skin and dark-ringed eyes. He looks very tired. I wish I could make him put his head on my lap and sleep like Skye does when she’s tired. In front of him is Stavros, looking as mischievous as usual and behind him is Bastion. Her yellow eyes glow through the slits of her helmet. “Do you think I’m Ex-Champion in name, Wynne? Do you think I bought myself the title?”

“No, but I think I’m good enough to take it from you.”

“Take what?! I’m Ex-Champion! That isn’t transferable!”

"Let’s wager our companies, then.”

"I don’t want your goddamn company. I like your father. I want him exactly where he is. All I want is to go to sleep, and I was about to, before you tracked me down, by my cellphone, I presume, and proceeded to tear up half the ground in an inane display of unneeded and unwanted idiocy.”

“I will leave if you win this ba—“

"Jesus Christ. Stavros! In the air!”

Abruptly, Stavros crouches and leaps into the sky, until he is just a small figure against the moon. In the same motion, Bastion grabs Steven and flaps her steel wings, hard. 

“Gardevoir, Double Team!” Wynne shouts just as another Piece appears with a flash of red light. Before I can get another look at her, Wynne is in the air and Steven calls out his next order. 

“Earthquake!”

If Bastion hadn’t turned her head at that exact moment, I would have died. But she does turn her head, and she lets out a scream of distress before she disappears. Before I can take my next breath, I’m whisked into the air and the ground underneath my feet explodes in cracks and spires and plates and mountains. I can’t speak because she accelerates rapidly to dodge a hurtling boulder. I see something out of the corner of my eye and Bastion wrenches us towards the left before spiraling to the ground and depositing us on a fairly stable-looking rock.

“Alexa?! Are you okay?” Steven’s eyes are big and frightened. He has a new injury, right around his temple now. He cups my face but I’m too stunned to say a word. So I just press a hand to his hairline to stop the bleeding. He winces and then hugs me hard. “Thank, God. Thank, God. Thank, God. Thank, God.” He rocks me like Torrent does. I’m still too surprised (not scared) to say anything. “Say something, sweetheart. Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“I mean,” I cough to clear my throat. “I twisted my ankle a little bit, but that was before coming here. Steven, you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah.” He puts his lips to my temple and I’m sure he’s feeling my blood thundering through my veins. “Yeah.” His hands are shaking. 

“Dr. Stone. I have sent out my next Piece,” Wynne says in a cold voice. 

“Are you kidding me? Alexa almost got killed—“

"That’s none of my concern, Dr. Stone. Do you forfeit this match?”

I pull back and I see Steven watching me carefully. 

“I need you to cover your eyes,” he says slowly. 

This is where I have seen that face before. He looked like Torrent did when Briar kissed him. I don’t know what the emotion is, but it scrunches his eyebrows and pulls down the corner of his mouth. But the light shines in his gaze. 

So I cover my eyes and I don’t fight when he tucks me under his chin and covers my ears. 

“Let’s get this over with quickly, Stavros,” I feel him say. “Psychic.” After that, I only hear faint talking (or is that shouting?). Something warm and vanilla-scented splatters across my cheek. I feel, more than hear, Bastion unfurl her wing to protect us from something searingly hot. 

I peek between my fingers to look up. I see a sharp jaw with grey stubble, a calm face. He glances down and nudges my fingers back with his chin. He smells like cinnamon and cigarettes and— 

My heart thumps loudly and I know Torrent is searching for me now. Briar must have let him out of his PEN to find me.

“I am here,” I tap out on the ground with my feet. 

“Well, that was useless,” I hear Stavros say when Steven uncovers my ears. In the distance, I see Wynne’s retreating back, still proudly straight. “I guess I’ll fix the ground.” Stavros takes a deep breath. Everything outlines in purple as he starts fitting pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. 

“What are you doing here, Alexa?” Steven asks, eyebrows still together. “That was very dangerous of you. And why are you damp?” A line of dried blood traces the curve of his cheek. 

“I didn’t know Earthquake would be like that.” I check his cuts. They have stopped bleeding by now. “I wanted to be unsafe for a while. I fell in a river.”

"Unsafe, Champion Oak?” But his voice is warm this time. Before I can took at his face again, I feel the wind start to blow, dizzyingly strong. 

“Your Pieces are angry,” Bastion comments. Stavros snickers in the background. A plume of fire rockets towards Bastion from the brush, but she deflects it easily with her wing. One of Skyra’s katanas hurtles towards Steven, frighteningly accurate, but it outlines in purple and then drops to the ground. Stavros doesn’t stop and continues sealing the cracks all around us, replanting trees. “What level do you think we are, children?”

“Torrent!” And we are reaching for each other at the same time. He scoops me up and hugs me, nuzzling the crook of my neck. But just as quickly, he drops me down. 

“Alexandra Ming-Zhu Oak! You are in so much trouble!” His eyes are glowing grey and his mouth is a stern line across his face. “Do you know how many things could have gone wrong? You could have met a Manectric and they would have torn you apart for dinner! If you wanted to go for a walk, you should have woke one of us up!” The ground starts to get soft under my feet, and I pull up my legs with a wet sucking sound, “We would have gladly—“

"Sorry,” I say, and I tilt my head sideways the tiniest bit. I know Torrent can’t stand up to me when I do that, and right on cue, I see him deflate. But Briar walks up to me and hits my wrist sharply. “Ow!” He has a cold anger in his eyes. 

“If you had died,” he enunciates slowly, gripping my shoulders, “we would have died, too. Do you understand? Please think about your actions next time.” He stalks off and Skyra follows him, face stiff. Skye waves bye-bye and follows them. 

“I haven’t seen him like that in a long time,” I say, rubbing my wrist, “This reminds me of right after we battled Brendan.”

“We show love to you in different ways,” Torrent murmurs, kissing me on the forehead. Aiden touches my shoulder, as if to confirm I am alive. “But seriously, that was dangerous.”

“I met Manectrics, though. They didn’t hurt me.”

“I — wait, really?”

I nod.

“Mhm. A little Electrike came up to me while her mom was watching, too.”

“I think,” Steven bends and sniffs my neck, “that Briar marked you, which is why they didn’t touch you. You smell like a plant to them. A very intoxicating plant.” I clutch onto his suit lapels before he can straighten up. He raises an eyebrow. “Do you need something?”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Brendan has been discharged,” he answers, not meeting my eyes. 

“Let’s go help Stavros,” Aiden mumbles and grabs Torrent’s hand to drag him off. Steam curls from their interlocked fingers as Torrent literally leaves furrows in the ground, resisting, but I’m only momentarily distracted. 

“This apology isn’t for Brendan, Steven. It’s for you,” I say. He curls his hands around my own, fisted into the black material. Rough hands, warm hands. He’s missing a ring; it’s the one I have. “I should have trusted you, Steven. I’ll apologize for that. But how, when Ash died… those things are important. I’m so sick of lies. I’m swimming in lies. They told me he died in a car accident and now, here I am, and, and—“ Steven crouches down until he’s eye-level with me, his hands still around mine. 

“Yeah. Alright.”

“And don’t keep things from me, Steven. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. But just because you’re a kid, doesn’t mean I should keep things from you.”

“Alright. I’m sorry for yelling at you and I’m sorry for a lot of things. A whole lot of things. And I like you very much. I’m sorry I’ve been calling you to see how Brendan was. That wasn’t very nice. I like Brendan, too, but I like you also, just as much.”

“Mhm,” he hums. One of his hands go to my forehead, and then my cheek. He untangles my hand and takes off his jacket to wrap it around me. 

“This jacket is too big,” I laugh and he smiles and wraps it tighter. He motions Aiden over, picking me up and handing me over to him when he gets here. “Wait!”

“I’m not going anywhere, Alexa,” Steven replies. “But maybe you shouldn’t have gone swimming in that river.”

“I fell in. It was an accident.”

He nudges my head until it’s against Aiden’s heated neck. All of a sudden, I start shivering and I can’t stop. Aiden hugs me tighter to him, the tremors ricocheting down my limbs. 

“Alexa, stick you your tongue for me? Go, mleh.”

I copy him.

“Good. Now say ‘It’s always been raining on Route 33.’”

“It’s always been raining on Route 33.”

“Good girl. You’re alright. What dilated pupils you have. Shock, most likely. Go to sleep, Alexa.”

“I’m not tired. Don’t go away.”

“I won’t go away. Stavros, come here for a second.”

I see him approach out of the corner of my eye. He pulls down his mask and grins, the scar slashing his lip standing out in the silvery light.

“All ready to sleep, little lady?” he says, much quieter than normal.

“No. I’m not tired.”

“Oh, my,” he says. His puts his middle finger and thumb together. They glow purple. “Follow my fingers, little lady. And… goodnight!” He snaps and I’m plunged into darkness. 

*****

I do not dream. 

When do I wake up, I wake up between Steven and Torrent, disorientated and groggy. Is it the same night? Is it the next night? I do not know. 

There are thousand of bubbles above Torrent’s head and semi-precious stones glitter under my hands. Torrent must have done something very tiring. Next to him is Aiden. I cock my head when I see that. They aren’t touching, but their heads are leaning towards each other, as if they had been talking before they went to sleep. 

When I try to stand up, my legs give out and I slip down next to Steven again. That’s fine. I’ll try again in a minute. For now, I watch Steven’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall. He has his jacket covering him, so I wriggle my hand underneath it and touch his chest. My hand starts to fall up and down with his breathing. It’s toasty warm by his heart. 

Something vibrates insistently in the pocket of his suit pants. Slowly, quietly, he opens his eyes and then sighs. He touches the back of my hand with the tips of his fingers and with the other hand, fishes his phone out from his pocket.

“Hello? Yes. Yes.” I touch his cheek. He looks at me briefly, the corners of his mouth flicking up. “What’s his name? Mhm. Did you check his EEG? Alright. Have him take a Blissy Shot and check on him again.” I lower myself down next to him and automatically, he slides his arm under my head. 

Why do they all do that? Is that a common form of love? Skyra does that, too. 

”Hello,“ I say to him when he gets off the phone. 

"Hello,” he chuckles. The back of his fingers brush my cheek. 

“You still look tired.”

“I’m always tired. How are you feeling.”

“My head’s sorta floaty. You should sleep more.”

“So should you.” His thumb touches the corner of my mouth, but that’s all it does. I relax. 

I feel safe. 

“Why did Wynne want to battle you?”

“I don’t have slightest idea. Many people forget that I was Champion, I suppose. They only associate me with the hospital and Devon.”

“Why did they eat him, Steven?” I ask after a while. His face darkens and he rolls on his back, facing the stars. Not wanting to be ignored, I flop down on his chest, harder than I should have, because the air rushes out of his lungs. “Oops, sorry. I forget you’re not Torrent. But you said you would tell me things, Steven.“

"Hm.” He brushes back my hair. Torrent stirs sleepily and then rolls on his side, closer to Aiden. “PALs had a rushed testing phase. My father said they shut off a Piece’s consciousness, but I never saw the paper data for that. I never saw any data for that. It might be that their consciousness is still on, but buried underneath the stronger electrical current.”

“Is that why you didn’t switch Stavros and your other Pieces to PALs?”

He laughs.

“My father tried, and Stavros sent him through a window. Then one of my father’s workers tried to wrap Bastion’s wings with electrical wire, and then put the bracelet on, and I had to physically restrain Stavros from strangling them. That was one of the few times I’ve seen him acting protectively.” He pauses. One of his hands reach out to my face and then stops. I complete the motion for him, leaning my cheek against his hand. “Your brother was a bad person, Alexa.”

I inhale. I exhale. 

“I know.” Something foreign and angry buzzes in the back of my brain, but I shove it away. “I know he was.”

“And it’s not your fault that you loved him. It’s not my fault either.”

“I know. Is that why you keep me around? Because I remind you of him when he was good?”

His eyes narrow. 

“Who told you that bullshit? Did Wynne tell you that?”

Who had told me that? I remember someone telling me, I just don’t remember who. Had it been whispered in my dreams?

“I don’t know. Maybe myself.”

He meets my eyes for a second, for two, but I don’t look away. I’m not lying. I don’t know who told me. I see him start to think, lists and connections being made behind his eyes, lines being drawn, people being remembered. 

“You think too much,” I say, licking his palm. And just like that, he stops, and his thoughts wind down. 

“Very true. And no, that’s not why I keep you around.”

“Why did they eat him, Steven?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want him hurting anybody else. Red started using PALs before they were popular. He left a trail of blood wherever he went.” Steven closes his eyes. He still has dark circles. “Whatever it was, by the time he reached me, he was a different person. I decided to stop him in the only way he would listen. I stepped down from being Champion right after he died.”

I think about that for a long time, my head on Steven’s chest, his hand petting my face. It must have been painful for Steven, too. Even if Steven didn’t love Ash by that point, hearing how he had died, it would be enough to make anybody cringe. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me things, because he didn’t want to remember himself. 

What had happened to Ash’s Pieces? I look up, so that I can ask Steven, but his eyes are closed, his breathing steady, even though his hands are still lying against the bones of my face. 

I nuzzle into his palms and close my eyes as well.


	27. Home

The grey-haired pretty human is walking with us.

Sten? Steen? Steve?

“Steven,” Daddy says when I ask him, “Stee. Ven.”

“Steven,” I say, and then wrinkle my nose. Ugly, ugly name. Daddy laughs and kisses my face with his hands. Light brush and it feels happy. 

I am very happy because today, everybody is out and walking! There are so many people hopping down the road, or maybe I am the only one hopping? But it is a-okay because there are only good emotions today. 

In the beginning, Steven walked behind us because he was busy talking to this little box that had another voice coming from it. Capala the Magnemite had to float very far ahead because she kept using the box to talk, too, and Alexa said no. The big, gentle Bastion walked next to Steven. I think Stavros and the other one was walking in the woods, because they liked dark, cool places. 

“Damien,” Daddy says when I ask him. “Day. Me. In.”

“Damien. Are they each other’s compasses?” Between the gaps of trees, I see Stavros pull down his mask and Damien, blue, blue eyes squinted in a grin, kisses him and I feel their hearts beat together. Damien pulls away and touches Stavros’s cheeks, his upper lip. He traces his scar then kisses him again. Very gentle. Daddy doesn’t answer and instead, pulls me up so that I am snuggled against his shoulder. I am a mover and I like hopping, but this is very nice, too. 

Steven was walking behind us, but Alex stopped and started to walk with him, her heart curious about the words that were coming out of Steven’s mouth. Because her heart was reaching out, her hand reached out, too, catching on Steven’s fingers. Steven’s heart went thump-thump and he folded his hand back, like you fold twigs into nests, like wings fold perfectly after a long day. 

Torr scowled once but only once. Aiden whispered, “Leave it be,” and Torr’s face smoothed out, even though his heart stayed suspicious and worried. 

“You’ll be a dragon someday, little one,” Bastion says to me, eyes glowing. I lift my head a little off Daddy’s shoulder. 

“I am already,” I say, but quietly, because even though Bastion is gentle, she’s also fickle. But she laughs, the sound echoey in her helmet. Mommy is high in the sky and everything is fine. 

But then Mommy screeches. A predator call, which would make every Zigzagoon go running into their hidey-holes. Bastion flaps her wings so hard, it makes a dust storm and she streaks into the sky to see what Mommy is yelling about. I step up on Daddy’s arm and he launches me into the sky so I can catch up faster. The clouds part for me, as they always do, and when they clear, I see a very large building and a bunch of humans with blue clothes standing around it. Are they all the same specie? Humans don’t really have species, right? So why are all their clothes blue?

Mommy dive bombs and Bastion follows more slowly and I follow even slower. 

“Yang is here,” Bastion says, and in her hand, a long, thin sword of steel appears in small explosions of gold. “Why has Death come?”

Steven is not talking to his little box anymore. Stavros appears by his side like he never left and Damien starts to travel forward through the forest, quiet. 

“Are they doing anything?” Steven demands, striding forward. 

“Nothing,” Bastion answers, “Nothing outside. But they might be inside the building.” 

“I saw them through the windows,” Mommy adds, “Definitely inside, too.”

Steven stops and then turns to Alexa. 

“Stay here.”

“You aren’t my father,” she responds cooly, her heart already at the building where her dad might be. 

“No,” Steven sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and then crouches so that their eyes match. “We are equals. I want you to stay here. I’m scared you’ll get hurt. Would you like to come with me?”

“No. Would you like to come with me?”

He grins wide and Alexa turns red at that. Steven notices, so his smile becomes more soft. He puts his hand out, halfway, and Alexa completes the motion and puts her cheek against his hand, soft hair falling across Steven’s rings. 

“Yes. I would like to come with you.”

Torr snorts. 

Mommy doesn’t waste any time and flies again, looking for danger. Daddy shakes his head, pitches forward, then disappears. Daddy is fast, too. 

“We will kill your enemies. That will be fun,” Capala says through Steven’s box, floating closer. 

“I’m going to go first, then,” Bastion comments, but Steven stops her. 

“No. Get the police. Closest town is Fortree, I think. Steven Stone calls for them,” Steven orders. She nods and takes off. “Stavros, if you kill anyone, I will kill you, got it?”

Stavros chuckles, hands deep in his jacket pocket, his scar smiling with his mouth. 

When we get to the building, Alexa stops us. 

“They have guns,” she says. “I didn’t know this dimension had human guns.”

“We do, more powerful than anything in your world. These were meant to battle Pieces. Humans are power hungry.” Steven is worried. “It’s dangerous.”

“Do you want to stay back?” Alexa asks. He smiles again. 

“Stavros, do you understand me?” Steven asks, his hand stretching out to the Metagross. 

“I do,” he responds, and love glints in his ruby eyes. He’s not so scary anymore. “Do not go where I can’t follow.”

“Our paths will not diverge,” Steven completes, like it was a song. He strides closer to the building. 

“Turn back! This building is ours for now,” one blue person shouts. He needs to hold his gun with both hands. It looks very heavy. His heart is more heavy. He does not want to shoot. He will not shoot if he can help it. 

“What are you doing here, Yang?” Steven asks. Alexa is quiet and stays behind Steven. Torr wraps Alexa in his arms and Aiden stands slightly in front.

“Not looking for a fight, Ex-Champion Stone.”

“This looks like a fight to me,” Aiden mutters.

“Not looking for a fight,” the man repeats. He is pleading. 

“I apologize, then,” Steven says, “I need to get inside that building.” He steps forward. 

“One more step, and we’ll be forced to shoot,” the man begs. Nobody wants to. But they will if they have to. 

“Then shoot,” Steven says, almost kindly. He steps forward and a burst of bullets leap out of the guns. Alexa jumps at the sound, but not in fear. Steven swipes his hand to the side and Stavros does the same. A purple screen slides in front of us and the bullets ricochet off like rain. 

“Capala,” Alexa shouts, “Throw!” 

“Indeed.” The guns wrench out of the people’s hands and clatter to the ground very far away. Alexa takes off Torr’s headphones and puts them over her ears, cuddling close to him. 

“Skye, Sing!”

Aiden stops his ears with his hands and Capala floats very high. Stavros lunges to cover Steven’s ears, his own already shielded purple. But I can direct my song. I will not put them to sleep. 

I sing the song my first brother taught me. 

“Home smells like sunsets, 

like cuddles in the rain.

Like mists that hide, like fogs that shroud 

the calm and dying day.

Home smells like melodies

Notes, and stops, and trills

Threading through the meadowlands,

and glades, and city stills. 

As far away as you may be,

the sky will still smell blue.

And sister from another life:

my home, it smells of you.”

They sink into my song and to their knees and onto the ground. Torr uncovers Alexa’s ears when I close my mouth. The rest follow. 

“It is sad that I will never hear the words,” Alexa says, patting my hair. 

I understand. 

“Yes. Very sad.”

Inside, the electric lighting makes the white walls glow cleanly. There are boxes with bigger boxes on top and even bigger boxes line the walls, all blinking, and real boxes are on top of desks. There are a lot of boxes. Not a circle anywhere, except the clock that taps out a beat to a song we all know. 

A Poochyena rushes us immediately, the energy swirling in front of him into a set of black jaws. But before he can Bite, Steven slides-steps, like a dance, and Stavros does, too, a spike of earth shattering through the Poochyena and leaving him there, hanging. He dies. 

“Pera!” his owner screams. Instant, crushing grief. 

“They’re all PEN-caught!” Alexa cries. 

“Of course,” Steven says. “This is Yang we are talking about.”

“Skye can sing again—“

“—not in these close-quarters. We’ll all fall asleep.”

“Then, Torr—“

“—will destroy valuable data. So will Aiden and Capala. Look at all these computers, Alexa. The Weather Institute is irreplaceable.”

“We can’t kill them!” Alexa clutches on to Steven’s sleeve. He looks back at her. 

“You can’t kill them,” Steven says gently, “Darling. I can.” A Carvanha screeches and lunges at us.

“Ravage,” Capala says and a bolt of electricity arcs out and zaps him. She tries to be careful, but the nearest box fizzles. 

Alexa pulls down Steven by his jacket collar, eyes flashing. 

“You will not!” she orders and pushes him away. She turns to the crowd of blue people. “We don’t want a fight! How worth it is it to see your Pieces die?” The blue people are hesitant. 

“Our cause—“ one of them starts, but Alexa interrupts angrily. 

“Fuck your cause! Do you think that you can beat an Ex-Champion? This won’t be a fight! It’ll be a bloodbath! What are you even doing?! Is all of this worth it?!”

“It is,” most of them answer immediately. Alexa stops at that. They do believe. They believe very much in their cause, whatever it is. 

“You have your father’s eyes,” one of them says quietly, happily, sadly. Alexa steps back, then steps forward. 

“You will part for us. You will give us safe passage.”

They do.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Alexa says to the two blue people, whose tears make the room smell salty. Then, she marches up the stairs. 

At the top room, Daddy, Mommy, and Damien are already waiting for us. Or maybe they aren’t waiting for us. Daddy is talking to the woman there. She has fiery hair, like Flannery, but it hangs straight down her back in an unforgiving line. 

“And what would getting the orb even achieve?” Daddy asks, calm. Mommy isn’t calm, though. She’s agitated. The wind is blowing in the small room, around and around. Damien the Aggron is quiet, just looking. 

“It’s not what it will achieve. It’s who,” the woman says absent-mindedly, flipping through a chart with one hand. The other hand holds a gun to a shaking man’s temple. “This is your culture. You should know, yes?”

“I’m not a water-type. Our culture doesn’t revolve around Her.”

“Ah, but you do know,” the woman says. She picks up another chart, tilts her head, and starts to read. 

“And then what, you flood the world?”

“That’s a side effect. Yin is handling the other half. Or what do you guys call them? Team Magma?”

“And then?”

“Beyond that, I don’t know the specifics. We all know the end goal, but never how to get there. For that, you need to ask Archie.” She glances up and smiles at Alexa, warmly. “Hello. How are you, little mistress?”

“Please stop pointing a gun at that man’s head,” Alexa says.

“I can’t. He’s my hostage, you see? Other wise, Dr. Stone over there would kill me immediately. Or hand me over to the police, which is automatic suicide, so I’m dead, regardless.”

“What is this end goal that Yin and Yang keep mentioning?” Steven questions. “All of you mention it, even your lowest members. But none of you actually refer to it.”

“You don’t know?” She is surprised. She stops reading. “The great and mighty Steven Stone doesn’t know what his own father is doing?”

“Am I my father’s keeper?”

“Aha, you seem to be your father’s son.”

“And what if I killed you right now,” Steven asks abruptly. He’s scary. His eyes are cold green. “What if I asked Stavros to drive that clipboard you’re holding into your skull?”

“Then I would die,” she responds simply, going back to her reading. “Sure, the information I’m collecting would be lost, but our cause won’t stop. There are worse things than death, Dr. Stone.”

“The police are coming,” Alexa says. “If you leave now, you will be able to escape, along with the rest of your people. If you leave the man and walk out right now, we won’t stop you.”

“I don’t think Dr. Stone will fly with that, little mistress.”

Alexa takes Steven’s hand in her own. 

“We won’t stop you,” she repeats. Steven sighs, but his heart shifts and relaxes. 

“How am I to trust that promise, if I don’t know your character?”

“I am my father’s daughter.” There is no pride in her eyes. Only thoughts. “You trust him to follow him without a concrete plan. Now trust me for this.”

The woman thinks. She drops the gun and is out of the room in three quick steps. 

“Oh, Arceus, Dr. Stone, I—“

“—what materials did she go through?” Steven cuts off the man, who is trembling so much. 

“I think the — the rainfall files. And volcanic activity files. Dr. Stone, I would like to show my gratitude—“

“Thank her, not me,” Steven says, taking out that little box again. 

“Don’t leave,” Alexa says.

“I won’t. I’m making a phone call. I’ll be outside,” Steven answers. He strides over to the window, which is broken because of Mommy, I think, and jumps out. Damien dives after him with a curse. 

When I turn back to Alexa, the man is shakily giving her a milky white ball with no ring. A PAL. 

“So this Castform is mine now?” Alexa asks. 

“Yes. It was just engineered by the joint labs in Kanto and Johto and put into a PAL—“

Alexa releases the Castform in a bright light. 

He’s small, just like me. He has on a grey poncho with white, white boots and silver glasses. His grey hair is mostly flat and his eyes are flatter than anything, dead. Alexa crouches in front of him. 

“Your name will be Kumo. Please remember this for your next life.”

In one swift motion, she throws the PAL on the ground and smashes it with her heel. Kumo falters and then falls onto the floor softly, like grass bends in thunderstorms. Daddy catches him.

“What?! Why would you do that?! That was half a million dollars in research funds! Are you crazy?!” the man shouts, but Alexa points a finger at him. 

“Another word, and I’ll get Dr. Stone to fire you, understand?” Her heart is troubled but her gaze is steel and fire. 

The man does not speak again.

**********

It is when we are burying Kumo that my heart starts to churn. 

It’s only Steven, Torr, Alexa, and me. I look around to see whose heart is fighting and I see Steven looking away, through the trees. His hands are covered with dirt, hovering over the ground as he watches something and fights. 

What is the right choice?

Steven, I believe in you! You can choose the right choice!

What do I want?

Steven, instead, do what is best!

Slowly, he reaches over and taps Alexa on the cheek, leaving a streak of dirt. 

“Brendan’s over there, if you want to talk to him.”

Her head whips around so fast, I have to rub my own neck. Her eyes are red from crying but they are looking for Brendan now.

“We’ll be over here. So you can go talk to him.”

His heart beats so fast and sad. I stand up. I want to get away from this beating heart, which makes my heart beat fast, too. Emotions are contagious. 

Torr moves to follow, hesitates, and then settles back into the dirt, digging. 

Alexa holds my hand, dirt on dirt, and we walk over to Brendan, who sits on a tree stump with an umbrella over his head. His eyes are closed. His heart is calm. 

“Hello,” she says. 

The minute he opens his eyes, I need to grab my chest because it hurts so much. But he smiles, like his entire lungs aren’t ripping in two. 

“It’s been a while, Alexa.”

You’re a liar, Brendan. A liar. 

“I missed you,” Alexa says. She touches his face and he puts a mouth to her wrist. His arms have so many lines and scars and stitches. But they are clean and mostly healed. “You look a lot better.”

“I feel a lot better.”

Liar, liar, liar, liar.

“What’s with the umbrella?”

“Doctor’s orders,” he grins, tipping it forward so that Alexa is in the shade, too. “Can’t stay in the sun so long. I’m only allowed to be outside for a half an hour. I need to go soon.”

Brendan, my chest hurts. Brendan, your chest hurts. Brendan, why do you smile? You’re trying so hard. You’re trying so hard. 

Alexa bends down but Brendan leans back, away from her mouth. He looks away. Something changes in her heart, in the air. I feel like crying. I feel like dying. This was much worse than Steven. She kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair. 

“I’m glad you’re better. Text me again, yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.”

We walk back, quiet. Alexa is thinking and I’m in pain but trying not to show it, but I clench and unclench my hands until they’re dripping gold into the thirsty ground. 

“You came back,” Steven remarks. I don’t know if he’s surprised or pleased because all that’s pounding in my chest is that Brendan is not okay, not okay, not okay. 

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Alexa says. He studies her for a second and then offers up his hand. She presses her cheek to it, dirt and all, and then her mouth to his pulse point.

Torr’s eyes flicker to me and then widen. 

“Skye what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

It’s too late to hide it, so I sob. Alexa turns fast, sees me crying, and then hugs me hard. 

“Oh, Skye. What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” she asks, worried. “Maybe we shouldn’t have let you come. Kumo will be okay, Skye. His soul is safe now. Safe and sound.”

I am not crying for Kumo. I am not crying for myself.

I am crying because Brendan can’t cry. 

Not in front of Alexa.


	28. Heart Monitor

When it starts to rain, the steam floats off Aiden’s skin in curls, like the wisps you get over a hot teacup. 

 

“Not yet, Alexa,” he says, when I ask him if he wants to go in. He stretches, and shakes out his hands. “It would be a waste to walk all the way back and end the day. I need to catch up to the rest of the team. And I still have PP left, I think?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure,” I say. Steven tilts the umbrella over to my side. He’s been on the phone since forever. “I would tell you, but I really don’t want to talk to GLaDOS unless I have to. Are you going to be okay in the rain, though?”

“Yeah. It’s just rain.” He fluffs his hair, shaking off water drops, and turns back towards the grass. 

“Of course he doesn’t answer when I need him,” Steven mutters and pockets his phone. 

“Are you trying to call your dad?”

“Yes.”

“What that woman said is bothering you, huh? You’ve been trying for two weeks now.” I lean against his side and he wraps his arm loosely around my shoulders. I bring my left hand up to hold his. The umbrella shifts and a steady stream water drips onto his hand. He’s not wearing his suit today. Only a tank top and basketball shorts. “You look super young like that, by the way. What happened to your suit?”

“I went to visit Wynne, since we were in Fortree anyway. She threw a vodka bottle at me.”

“Wynne? Wynne Lytton? What is she doing in Fortree?” 

Steven looks at me funny.

“She’s the Gym Leader.”

“What? But she had a Gardevoir when she fought you. Isn’t she flying-type themed?”

“I think that Piece was Wally’s. Wynne generally uses PENs.”

“Her? Really?”

“Well, President Lytton makes PENs for a living. Of course his first-born and heir would use his products.” He smiles. “Did you not know that?”

“I don’t know a lot of things. Did you figure out what your dad was doing?”

“Alright. Reverting the topic. No, I didn’t, besides Battle Tower. But I don’t know how that could possibly align with Yin’s and Yang’s goals. It’s just a place for trainers to gather and battle.”

“Aiden, you okay?” I call out. I see a brown hand wave out of the tall grass. “Make sure not to push yourself too hard. Steven, doesn’t your hospital need you? You’ve been traveling with me for a while.”

“But I Fly back for the operations. And it’s not like I’m the only doctor. The best sign of a successful business is if it can run smoothly when its owner is gone. And I like traveling with you.” He stops, and then turns to look down at me. “Is that okay? Traveling with you? I can leave if you want.”

I shrug.

“I dunno. I guess it makes me happy. But I don’t really feel anything anymore. Unless I’m scared or sad, everything feels glazed over. Like a donut.”

“Like a donut, huh?” he says, pulling out his phone with his free hand and tapping it a few times. “That sounds like depression.”

“I’m not sad all the time, though.”

“You don’t need to be.” He hands me his phone, still warm from being in his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. These are a list of anti-depressants. I would like you to take one.”

“You’re not my dad, Steven,” I say, handing him back his phone. He doesn’t take it. 

“This is your doctor speaking, not your dad,” he says evenly. 

“You’re not my doctor.” My hand is still outstretched with his phone facing up on my palm. He pushes it to me and crouches so that our eyes are locked. 

“Then this is someone who fiercely cares about you speaking,” he states just as calmly. “I’ve watched you for almost a month now, Alexa. This will help. I promise.”

His eyes are so bright. He has that expression on his face. 

“I don’t want to take it. I’m not depressed.” 

He accepts the phone I’ve been holding out to him. 

“Alright.”

“I’m not depressed,” I repeat, unsure. He doesn’t say anything but holds out his hand. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve completed this gesture since he started it. It feels like a compromise, and I always complete the motion, like I do now. His hand is warm. This time, I step closer and squish my face into his front. I feel his laugh and his hand on the back of my head. He smells like rain and cinnamon (still) and something similar to laundry detergent. I look up. He still as that expression, but he’s smiling now, green shining through his narrowed eyes. 

It feels like a compromise. 

“What big pupils you have,” he says, touching just under my eye with his thumb. 

“That’s the best compliment I have ever received. Ten out of ten.”

“Oh, shush, you.”

“No, eleven out of ten,” I continue. “Seven out of five.”

He’s about to speak when his eyes flicker to the side. 

“Oh, dear,” he says, unhooking my arms.

“I don’t have PP anymore,” Aiden says, walking towards us and wiping the bright trail of blood from his mouth. “Whoops.”

“It’s alright. Overexerting yourself can be easily fixed with rest. Are you injured?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Aiden replies. “I wanted to keep going until I evolved, but seems like I can’t. Sucks. Briar took Capala training, right? She probably evolved by now.”

“We can go training again tomorrow,” I say. I take his hand, where the turtle swims in circles, and start swinging it. “And then you can evolve and Torrent might evolve soon and then only Skye will be left.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grins. 

“H-H-Hello.”

It’s a voice behind us. I know that voice.

“Stephan?” Steven says. “What are you doing here?”

He hasn’t changed. His brown hair is neatly combed and he’s in a green suit. He still has that puppy-dog look.

“Hey, Stephan!” I say, smiling. “I haven’t seen you since Rustboro.”

Stephan pulls out a gun.

**Ah. And here I thought they were too much of cowards to do anything.**

I have not heard that voice in my head in a long time. 

“Hey there, little brother,” Steven says, his voice smooth, “what’s wrong?”

“Tell your Piece to lie o-on the ground,” Stephan barks. I look at Aiden and he complies, lying face down in the dirt and soft grass. “Father gave you your orders, Steven. He e-even had her delivered with the letter-er in Dewford. But you didn’t kill her, so now, I have to do it, like I’ve always done.”

“You don’t have to do this. Be rational.”

“N-no, Steven. You’ve always been the irrational one. Do you remember what her brother did to our company?” He shakes his head. I feel a tremble move up the side of my arm but Steven squeezes my hand steadily. “So much hush money. So many people to be killed. He almost burned the name of Devon to the ground.”

**Burn him to the ground.**

“And now he’s dead, Stephan. So leave her alone.”

“To do what? It was supposed to be a revenge killing in the beginning but she’s actually a threat now. What if she beats the Piece Keepers with that PEN team? PALs won’t be the trend-d anymore.”

“You should start making PENs,” I say.

“Shut up, you unnecessary bitch,” he responds, smiling as nervously and as happily as that day in Rustboro, when he bought me an ice-cream sundae and tripped over his words in asking what his older brother had been up to.

“Stephan, if Father wanted you to kill her without any repercussions for yourself, why did he give you a gun that small? That can only hurt humans. Not Pieces. Aiden will rip you apart if you do anything.”

“Good point. Alex, could you please recall your Piece?”

“Alexa, don’t—!“

I cut off Aiden with a press of his PEN’s button. 

“I don’t want Aiden to kill you. I won’t let him have nightmares over you.”

The PEN gets hot in my hand. I drop it to the ground. 

“Now, Steven. Drop her hand, and walk away. Speaking of that, isn’t it a bit strange to have dated the older and the younger? Next you’ll be looking for her father, or mother. Just accept Wynne already. I told her you’d come around any day n-now.”

Suddenly, a red flash from the ground. 

Everything happens too fast.

I hear two gunshots and feel a burst of heat so intense, I have to shut my eyes. I’m pushed to the ground and there’s something heavy on me and it smells like metal and cinnamon. 

(Or does it happen in that order?)

(Maybe the gunshots come first, then the pushing, then the—)

Aiden’s gagging makes me open my eyes. He collapses to his knees, throwing up blood that stains the red ground a lively gold. Nearby is his PEN, functional. There must be a safety release on it that prevents it from breaking from the inside out.

Red ground.

I’m alive.

I don’t hurt.

Red ground.

There are two crimson holes on Steven’s back. 

“Steven?” I roll him over and off me. His eyes are closed. No exit wound. The bullets are still inside. 

He’s pale. 

I quickly push him on his face again. The fabric of his top is red, my hands are red, the ground is red, except where the gold mixes in. 

The rain chatters cheerfully. Further away is the fallen form of something still on fire, and something that smells like burnt meat.

“Aiden.” But I say it too quietly. “Aiden. Aiden! AIDEN, HELP! TORRENT!” My heart jolts in my chest and I know Torrent is coming now. But how do I stop the bleeding? Do I put my hands over—

Fire.

“Aiden, please! AIDEN, I NEED YOU TO CAUTERIZE IT. Please, Aiden! I don’t want him to die, I DON’T—“ 

He doesn’t waste any time. He crawls over, hunched, and releases a stream of fire into one of the bullet holes. It’s deep, really deep. Steven jerks violently and his flesh sizzles. Aiden pulls back and does the same for the other hole. Steven doesn’t move this time. 

Aiden falls to the ground without another word. I grab his PEN and recall him, furiously thinking. I could run and get someone, but I can’t leave him here, or the Pieces will get him. They’ll eat him. Should I just wait here with him, then? But who knows how far away Torrent could be and—

I bend down and prop Steven up, hoping that the wound doesn’t open again. 

“Steven, I gotta carry you, okay? This is gonna hurt and I’m small and I don’t — I’m gonna get you to the Piece Center, okay?”

A long time ago, in second grade, the local brigade of firemen came to our school. They talked about forest fires and… basically a lot about forest fires (Southern California is a dry place), but they also showed us how to do the fireman’s carry. 

So I push and pull until I can put a shoulder by Steven’s waist, then sling him across my shoulder, clutching his leg and arm. I put all my strength in my legs and stand up, shaking. 

I move forward, running when I can, trotting when I can’t. The rain makes huge puddles that I splash through and mud that I carefully pick my way over. If I fell, I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again. Aiden’s PEN feels cold in my pocket; Steven’s arm feels cold in my hand. 

“Don’t worry, Steven,” I gasp when I have enough air in my lungs to spare, “I’ll get you safe. Safe.”

And eventually, I find myself before a ladder. 

No time for screaming.

Don’t cry, don’t cry. You can do this. 

Hand over hand. Switching off and balancing. I don’t know if tears or blood is dripping down my face.

Hand over hand. 

Ashes to ashes.

Aiden, I’m sorry you had to kill him.

Dust to dust. 

Steven, hold—

Someone pulls me over the platform. I take the PEN out of my pocket, shove it at someone. Someone rips Steven away from me and disappears. 

“TORRENT!” I scream and he rocks me, hushing me, rocking me. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. They’re gonna fix them. They’ll be okay. Skyra’s the fastest flier I know. She’s going to get them to the Piece Center. Look, they’re going in right now. Look.” 

The rain blurs everything. 

He picks me up and walks me over the bridges I would have slipped on. All the shutters and doors of the houses are closed. He jumps from the other end of the platform down to the ground. I barely feel the jar. The doors to the Piece Center slide open.

And then I am in a hospital bed, clutching a thick blanket. 

(A hospital bed?)

(A hospital bed?)

My hair is damp.

“You’re a smart girl, cauterizing him like that,” a nurse says to me. She doesn’t have pink hair. It’s a nice brown color. She brings me another blanket and puts another pillow under my head. “That was fast thinking. And how did a little thing like you get him down the path and up the ladder? You saved his life.”

I did, but Steven saved mine first.

Brown hair like Stephan’s.

“There’s a body on Route 120. He tried to kill me, and Aiden killed him. Where’s Aiden? Is Aiden okay? Where’s Steven?”

“A body on Route 120? I’ll tell the police. Aiden’s fine. He was cutting it a bit close there with the Overheat and the Embers that he used to close up Dr. Stone. But he’ll be fine. Dr. Stone is in the operating room right now. They’re patching him up. Seems like he punctured a lung and broke a couple of ribs, but he’s alive. We can only hope and pray that his condition will stabilize.”

She leaves me then, probably going off to tend to other patients. I’m not injured. Why am I here?

I listen to the beeping of the heart monitor. 

I hear a soft buzzing sound. When I look up, Capala floats in. 

“Capala?” 

She doesn’t look little anymore. She looks like Steven’s age. She has on a grey jacket that comes to the bottom of her rib cage and a grey tank top. Her leggings look reflective, like metal. Above her head, a screw spins like a top. Orbiting her face are two flat plates that look vaguely like faces. But her hair is still gray and cut short. Her right eye still blinks red and blue. She’s still Capala. 

“ _Hello_ ,” her voice comes over the loudspeaker, crackly. “ _Safe, I see?_ ” It’s still melodic. 

“Where are the others?”

“ _In the guest rooms._ ”

“Why… why aren’t they here?”

“ _They are not allowed in here. You are in shock. You have a cold. And there are cameras. But I can make myself not show up on cameras. I was naughty. I snuck in._ ”

She floats over to me and sits on my legs. But not really, since she’s floating. 

“ _We were worried. Torrent felt your heart. When we got close enough, Skye started to cry. She also felt your heart, even though she couldn’t see you. We thought you were injured. You were scared._ ”

“I — I was so scared. I’m still scared,” I say and press my hands to my mouth. “I don’t want him to die!”

“ _You were quick and brave._ ” She cradles my face in her cold hands, presses her forehead to mine. “ _Strong human._ ” I hear the whirring of her right eye. The face plates start to orbit me, too. 

“I got off with a cold, but Steven gets shot. Why — why…?” I want to cry, but the tears won’t come out. 

“ _Steven will be okay. He has a high chance of survival. You helped that when you made Aiden stop the bleeding._ “

“That… that wasn’t for Steven. I was the one that was supposed to die, Capala.” I grip her hands. “Steven took that gunshot for me.”

“ _Yes, that is love,_ ” she says quizzically, as if I had missed a simple point.

I don’t say anything. 

Eventually, I fall asleep. 

**They couldn’t kill me. They can’t kill you. We are gods.**

“Wake up.”

I jolt awake. Wynne Lytton is standing over me, as lovely as ever. From this angle, she looks like an angel, with the light glowing around her head in a halo. Then, she grimaces. 

“Wipe your drool off.”

I do, propping myself up. The back of my head buzzes. Without touching anything, she drops a sticker and a small CD on my blankets. 

“Feather Sticker, Aerial Ace TM.”

I stare a beat too long at the items, and Wynne sighs disgustedly. 

“What are these for?” I ask, prompted by her impatience. “I didn’t beat your Gym.”

“But you will. You have a Magneton. I’m forced to be a flying-type Gym Leader, and I’m not stupid. We all know the outcome of this match-up and frankly, I don’t want to lose any of my Pieces. Not right now, anyway. Stephan Stone has just been found roasted alive in Route 120 and since I’m Gym Leader, I have to take care of that. And as heir of my father’s company, I need to make sure that the media drag down Devon as much as they can with this. I don’t have time to focus on a petty battle with a teenager. Now talk.”

“You should try being nice. I heard it makes you live longer,” I mumble. My tongue feels swollen. My hair is dry.

“As if smiling is going to make me healthier.”

“No. Like, you might get stabbed. Which will shorten your life-span by a lot.”

“Why was there a gun found on Stephan Stone’s person? I know you’re linked to this. I know it’s your fault that Dr. Stone is—“

“Steven!” I bolt upright. “Where is he?! Is he stable now?!” I toss of the blankets and rip the IV from my arm. Blood spurts out but I quickly press a thumb down on it. It’ll be fine. Where’s Steven? I stumble to the floor. 

“I’ll take you to him if you tell me what happened,” Wynne says quickly, moving away so I don’t touch her. But I don’t have time for that. 

Right outside the door, a nurse stops me. 

“I need to see Steven!” I scream when she holds me back. My legs keep shaking. The hospital gown is thin. 

“You—“

“If you do not let me see Steven right now, I will have him fire all of you. He’ll buy this entire hospital and make sure none of you get jobs ever again.”

“You should try being nice,” Wynne mimics behind me. 

“Where is your IV?!” the nurse exclaims. 

“I took it out! Please! I want to see Steven!”

“You need to calm down—“

“I’ll be the quietest patient ever! I’ll do whatever you tell me! But please, I want to see Steven!”

“If you’d calm down for three seconds,” she says sharply, “you’d understand that I’d come to tell you that Dr. Stone is awake and is asking for you.”

I walk down the hall with her, too scared to be embarrassed, too nervous to be sad. 

Bastion’s in the room when I walk in. 

“One day,” she interrupts, holding up a hand to stop my words, “I will understand and accept that this was completely Steven’s choice, and no fault of your own. But right now, I feel like I can personally strangle you and watch you die. I had to keep Stavros in his PEN because of that. He hasn’t been in his PEN in seven years.”

“Bastion,” Steven whispers, lifting up his oxygen mask. “Get out.”

She nods and without another glance, walks out the door. The nurse guides me over next to Steven and then starts to check the machines and the several IV lines in his arm. I’m too shocked to say anything. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive.  

But there’s a tube coming out the side of his chest and the skin is smeared with blood around the area. I can see the skin open up to dark red muscles. What is it supposed to be doing? He looks paler than usual and the IV bag goes drip, drip, drip, drip. 

“Am I that pretty?” he whispers, dark circles under his eyes. His chest must hurt so much. I can barely hear him over the oxygen hissing into the mask. “Christ, what big pupils you have.”

I lean over the railing, lift up his mask, and kiss him. 

The heart monitor makes a flurried beeping sound and I pull back, surprised, but he pulls me back down, hand on the back of my neck and kisses back, warm, alive, breathing. Something burns in the pit of my stomach and he’s alive, he’s alive.

“Hey! Knock it off and keep your BPM down!” the nurse barks. I break away and Steven laughs, this pathetic wheezing noise, but his smile still looks like the sun. The heart monitor continues beeping frantically.  

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he breathes, grinning like he hadn’t been shot twice.

“I hate you,” I respond, but he just pulls my hand to his face, to his mouth. “I hate you. Why did you do that?”

“Kiss you?”

“No!” I shout and the nurse give me a stare so cold, that I shiver. “Why did you  _do_  that?”

“Number one,” he ticks up a finger, “I’m bigger, so I knew the gun would do less damage to me. Number two, there were only two rounds in the gun’s chamber. The rest were fake. I don’t know why my father would do that — no, I do. There’s no evidence now, linking him to what should have been murder. He knew Stephan would die. Dead man tell no tales.” He winces a bit and reaches over and turns up a dial. After a while, he relaxes. “Morphine’s the best thing ever.”

“You thought of that all so fast.”

“No,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand fall. My hand is on his face, for once. Grey stubble prickles the palm of my hand. “I just thought of those reasons now. But when Aiden came out of his PEN and I saw Stephan start to move, I just pushed you down. There was no thinking. I wanted you to live.”

“You could have died.”

“Probably.”

“You could have died!”

“Yeah.”

“The nurses…” and here I falter. He opens his eyes and brings his hand to mine, held against his face. “The nurses said if I hadn’t thought to cauterize the wound, or if you had arrived a minute later, you definitely would have died.”

“That was very quick thinking.” He smiles. “But after all the times you told me not to leave you, I wouldn’t have just gone.”

And here, I break down. 

Steven lowers the railing of the bed and pulls me to him and I cry against his shoulder. He can’t rock me. It bet hurts beyond anything for him to speak. But he does card through my hair with steady fingers, mouth against the top of my head. 

He smells like alcohol.

He smells like rain.

(Where is the cinnamon?)

“How did you manage to get me up the ladder?” he asks. I laugh, shakily, and it’s still more of a sob than anything. His voice is genuinely confused. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, and that’s the only thing I can’t understand.”

“I—“ and for the first time, I realize my palms and fingers and covered with bandages. I peel one off and they all come off together, in one big, sticky mess. The skin underneath is angry and red and scraped and swollen. “I just climbed. I didn’t want you to die.”

He looks at me, not smiling anymore, fingers woven into my hair, and that  _goddamn_  expression on his face. His other hand touches the corner of my lips. 

“I love you,” he says. 

I kiss him again to steal the words from his mouth.

This time, I close my eyes. 

**********

Briar reaches me first. Then Skyra. Then Torrent. Then Skye. Then Aiden. They hug me and I’m being lifted off the ground and kissed and hugged some more and I’ve never seen Skyra cry before but here she is, angrily brushing away tears. Capala floats above us, throwing happy sparks. Then Briar and Torrent are taking turns yelling at me, but they can’t yell too long without hugging me and I’m warm and happy and I edge my way around them to hold Aiden’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to him when I reach him. 

“Don’t,” he shakes his head and hugs me, so much warmer than the others. “Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He kisses my cheek, but doesn’t say another word. He smiles, eyes flickering saffron and tangerine. His eyes are different. 

Torrent points it out later, much later, when it’s just him and me awake in a dark and sleepy room. 

“Look,” he says, gesturing at Aiden’s sleeping form, curled up next to us. There is no turtle lazily swimming around on his skin anymore. Instead, on his upper arm, are seven red bars in a straight, even line.

“What does it mean?” I whisper to Torrent.  

“It only appears on people who’ve had tattoo emblems,” he answers, his exhale tickling my ear, “They say shamans and tribe leaders and pack mothers all have it. It stands for something brave. Well, the actual words are different in every specie’s language. But it’s always seven words.” He taps each line as he says them to me in English. Aiden stirs, but doesn’t wake. He has no nightmares. 

I whisper the words to myself for the rest of the night.

“I was saved and in return, save.” 


	29. Ghosts

“Are you still aiming for the Piece Keepers?” Steven asks. 

 

I pause, his shirt still half way up his back. The wounds are healing and the stitches are apparently self-dissolving; they’ll be gone in another week. I touch the small puckers of skin and the string they’re bound with. Rings of bruises bloom from the wounds, like ripples from a pond. They look so small, but the real damage was inside. Broken ribs that needed to be wired together, and a punctured lung that collapsed while I was carrying him. At least there isn’t a tube going into his body anymore. He has old scars that go up and down his back in sweeping strokes. It almost looks like as word, but the blue and purple that spreads across his skin and the ashy burn marks make it hard to tell.

He tries to look over his shoulder, and winces, trapped in his shirt. 

“Yeah.” I respond, pulling it down the rest of the way. He has trouble lifting his arms, but that will get better with time. “I am. Why?”

“I was thinking that you should go on without me.”

I pause while he painfully gets off the hospital bed. He breathes in shallow gasps. 

“Why?”

“Well, it’s September now. And October is coming soon. It’s going to get cold, unless you go to Mossdeep. Not cold enough to snow, of course. We’re too near to the equator for that. But you might get sick. It’s good to travel in summer.”

“You haven’t kissed me since you had surgery.”

That throws him off. He stops walking slowly to the door, rolling along his IV rack, and turns to face me. He doesn’t look that bad now. But he also doesn’t look like the steel-eyed Ex-Champion who battled Wynne under a full moon. 

He just looks like Steven. Not Dr. Stone. Not Steven Stone. Just Steven, with soft hair and flannel pajama pants. 

“It’s a bit painful to bend down to your mouth level. You’re pretty short.”

“I’ll kick you in between the legs. Let’s see how fast you bend down then.”

“What kind of things are you learning from Stavros?” he grins. But I don’t smile. I look away. 

As he limps toward me, clutching the pole of his IV rack as a makeshift walker, my heart suddenly doubles in rhythm. I stay still. He brushes away my hair with a couple fingers, then touches the back of my neck. He glances at my mouth. 

“Well?” I say, as bravely as I can. 

“Impatient,” he smiles. He kisses me and he tastes like toothpaste. His lips are chapped. Then, I lick the roof of his mouth and he breaks away, laughing and trying not to, because it hurts.

“Where did you learn that?” he asks. 

“Torrent.”

“Water-types,” he says and shakes his head, smoothing my hair. The burning feeling in my stomach warms me down to my toes. “I try not to kiss you too much. People will think I’m a pedophile.”

“You’re are a pedophile.”

“You are legal in my universe.”

“And illegal in mine.”

“What an unhappy in-between that is,” he murmurs, looking idly out a window into the dense forest that surrounds Fortree. “I feel like I should know better.” I look at him curiously. 

“It’s alright. I’m almost eighteen. Just over a year left.”

“Are you telling me,” he says, looking straight back at me, “that in one year, your mental and emotional age will be eighteen?” I don’t answer. “Anyway, I’d rather you ask me if you want anything. It’s safer that way." 

"I wanna go swimming." 

He looks as me, startled, and then laughs again, holding his sides gingerly. 

"That’s not what I was talking about, although I think we’ll only be talking about those kinds of things for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, pulling me close enough to hear his heartbeat, “that swimming is okay. And if it’s just swimming for the rest of forever, that’s okay, too.”

“I… I mean, okay? I know swimming is okay. I don’t know if I  _just_  wanna swim, though. Fishing is really nice, too.”

“You should go without me, Alexa. You can fish and swim when you get to Mossdeep and by the time you’re there, I’ll have recovered enough to go with you.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll see you again in Mossdeep. There’s no reason to –”

“ _I don’t want to leave you,_ ” I repeat. He is silent. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I don’t want you to disappear and find that you disappeared forever. I don’t want to. I want you to stay here and maybe if you stay here long enough, I’ll start to feel again. If I stay next to you, maybe I’ll stop feeling just sad and scared and start feeling happ–”

“I am not your medicine,” Steven cuts in, firmly. I step back but he matches with a step forward and holds my face in his hands. “I am not your dopamine. You cannot inject me into your bloodstream like morphine. Do you understand? All the medicine you need is in yourself. I can only help you. I prescribed you anti-depressants. I set up appointments with psychiatrists and therapists. I am here to help you in any way I can. But if you do nothing, nothing will happen. I am not your panacea and no one else will ever be. Not Torrent, not Skyra. Not Brendan. People are not supposed to be chemotherapy, Alexa. You will save yourself so much heartache if you understand this now.”

I start to step away, but he stops me. 

“Are you going to run away?” he asks. “I’d rather you eventually run towards me than away from anything.”

I shake off his hands and go to find Torrent.

The next morning, I wake up without Torrent singing me awake. (I argue with the Steven in my head, listing excuses. He wins.)

When the sun slides across the sky and the shadows shrink, I walk outside. 

“Alright, I think we got everything,” Torrent says, sifting through my backpack. He slings it effortlessly over his shoulders; he’ll let me take it later, when I am warmed up with walking. Skyra is already floating in the velvet circle of blue we can see through the ring of trees that surround Fortree. Skye is with her, slower, smaller. “I’m glad we’re leaving.”

I know why he doesn’t like it here. Too many trees, not enough water. He wants oceans and rivers. But Fortree isn’t a bad town. It’s looks rustic, but inside the houses are gilded electronics and monitors instead of windows. It’s a facade, with its wooden ladders and swinging bridges hiding computers the size of closets. After all, this is Wynne Lytton’s town. At least it isn’t like Mauville, or how Mauville was. I wouldn’t live here (I would live near an ocean), but I understand those who do. It looks natural, but isn’t. That takes a certain kind of skill to build. 

Briar and Capala walk out of the Piece Center. 

“You’re all checked out,” he says, handing me Steven’s ring. One of Capala’s face plates orbits near me and shocks me slightly, like a kiss. 

“ _We go,_ ” she sings through the phone in my pocket and floats down the road to where Aiden is waiting. 

“I’m gonna go say bye to Steven,” I say quietly. Torrent moves to go with me, but stops, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Briar nods. 

He’s reading a book underneath a huge tree. He’s not allowed to sit on the ground, so a plastic lawn chair is his throne for today. When he sees me coming, he closes the book. 

“I’m leaving,” I state. 

“That’s good,” he stands up, slowly. I resist the urge to help him. I’m still… annoyed? Angry? In denial? “Lilycove should be a week and a half away if you walk fast. There’s no gym, but it’s a nice place to visit, with its department store and Contest Hall. Lots of things to eat and buy there. Do you have my ring? Credit card?” I nod. “Alright. Stay safe.”

And that’s that. 

He’s tall. I come up to his collarbones, barely, and he narrows his eyes against the sun that filters in through the gaps in the trees. He’s smiling. I take a step away. And then another. I turn and start to walk back to where my Pieces are waiting for me. When I look back, he’s lowering himself into the chair like an old man, grey hair ruffling in the breeze. 

I stop.

And run back to him. He looks up, surprised. 

“Did you forget something?” he asks.

“I forgot my kiss.”

It takes him a while to process that. But when he does, he grins, teeth white. 

I have never felt anything as devoted, as intimate, as his hands around the back of my neck. 

“I won’t go away,” I say. “Even though I’m leaving, I won’t go away, okay?”

Emerald, shimmering eyes. I see plants reflected in them. Trees. Life.

“You will find your medicine,” he murmurs, his face much closer and much farther than I would like. And the words have a different feeling to them, different than the antiseptic, stainless-steel lexicon Steven usually unfolds from his teeth. They sound familiar, old, smooth. Like the stones you find in oceans, polished round by the tide. Those words do not belong in this town. 

So I tuck them in my heart and take them away. 

**********

The days melt away into each other. 

Did you know Torrent can make bathtubs? At the end of each day, he makes a deep depression in the ground, lines it with stones to keep the mud out, and guides the water that is hiding underground into the makeshift spring. Aiden heats the water, because it’s getting cold at night now. Then, Torrent lies on his stomach beside me, head in his arms. Sometimes, he washes my hair for me. He says it relaxes him. 

All the mornings are quiet, and the afternoons quieter. It is only the nights that are loud from laughing and sparring and chasing. Sometimes, Capala will shock Torrent with a ThunderBolt that makes my hair stand up and he’ll leap up and run after her while she floats around in rings. Skyra always flinches at the sudden electricity. It sets her on edge, but less and less every time Capala does it.

When we arrive at Lilycove, it feels like an endless rush of noise. It’s a change. It looks and feels like New York, but shorter and spaced out. All the crowded walkways are in place, though, and the food vendors, and both people and Pieces wander the side walks. And beyond, is the glittering sea. 

“We need to buy you new shoes,” Skyra say, looking around. Skye is clutching her hand tightly. Briar ticks off the points with his hand as she says them. “And clothes, because it’s getting cold. We should also find a place to stay. We’re probably staying here for a while, right? So a hotel that accepts PEN-caught Pieces.”

“I’m hungry,” I say.

“Yeah, food first,” Torrent agrees, lifting me up and putting me on the tops of his feet. He walks, stiff-legged, moving me as well. “And then what, Alexa?”

“Well,” I grab his hands to keep myself from falling off his shoes. “Then you and Aiden and Skye need to evolve.”

“Hell yeah,” says Aiden and scoops me up to put me on his feet. He waltzes with me in a big circle and Skye flutters in to join. “Hey, we should split up. Evolved Pieces should go do boring stuff, and non-evolved Pieces should go training.”

Briar and Skyra look at each other and shrug. Capala spins around with Skye. 

“Yeah, I’m okay with that,” Skyra says. “We can call you with the hotel phone when we find a place. Eat first, though. Give us Steven’s ring.”

I slide it off my finger and toss it to Skyra. Capala twirls away from Skye with a bow and joins Briar and Skyra as they walk down the street, in search of shelter. 

We try everything from all the vendors on one side of the street and then reach the intersection to find another huge street that branches off into stores and restaurants and even more vendors. Street performers gather groups of people around them, serenading or entertaining. Torrent keeps my bag; he would catch any looter before I did. Most of the Pieces here are PAL caught, but nobody spares us a second glance. It’s a busy place, a busy world. 

Eventually, we head to the outskirts of the city, and find C-Keys honing their Piece’s skills in the tall grass. I’ve never seen so many people training before, or grinding, as it would be called in the video games. 

“You ready?” I call to the three. Skye spreads her wings, still smaller than my arm span, and the air around her shimmers, as it does with weaponless Pieces (it’s the energy gathering, I’ve been told). Torrent smirks, holds out his hands, and grabs the guns that appear in golden sparks. And Aiden, Aiden grins wide, a turtle no longer marking him as hated or self-hating, the seven red lines shining underneath his sleeve. “Alright.” I whisper, proud of my team, proud of my friends. There’s a lump in my throat. “Alright.”

The blood that splashes out of the wild Pieces dissolves and makes the sky look like stars are ascending to their home. I wonder at this energy. It makes up blood, weapons, water… everything? I don’t know, but I don’t feel the need to know. Right now, as I run around in the grass with the hot sun against my back, dodging Pieces and occasionally other C-Keys, the darkness that had seemed to sit heavily on my heart starts to shift, like curtains over an open window. 

Skye evolves first. The golden flares swirl around her Emblem, a small earring I never knew she had until Torrent pointed it out a week after we caught her. I brace myself, because I know what is coming. And it does come. She screams. Some of the trainers in my area turn to look, confused, but shake their heads when they see the white glow. I know why they disapprove. PAL-caught Pieces don’t scream. 

We watch helplessly as her bones crack and meld. She cries that it hurts but not once does she beg for it to stop. I want to put my hands on her, hold her, but I don’t. I know what that does now. It stops the process, and whatever pain she endured up to now would have been for nothing. So I bite my nails and wait. 

The first thing she does when she stands up is run to me. Before I can get a good look at her, she throws herself into my arms and I notice she’s the same height as me now, not an inch more, or an inch less. I hug her, too, never having hugged someone my own size, and it feels very nice. She smells like morning mist and a bit like coals. Maybe that’s the dragon in her. She hops back and looks down at herself. Her hair is sky blue now, her bangs arched across her forehead with a bun in the back, tied with streaming, blue ribbons. Blue leggings are under a chunky, soft-looking white sweater that has blue clouds across it. When I look carefully, I realize the clouds are drifting slowly across. 

“I’m glad I didn’t get a dress,” she laughs. Her voice is beautiful. She stretches her snowy wings, which are now wider than I am tall. “I was afraid I was gonna, but it seems I worried for nothing.”

“You look about Lexa’s age in human years,” Torrent comments, pinching and stretching her cheeks, “You must be pretty young in Piece years.”

“Yup! I’m only two years old.” She puts her hand on my shoulders. “Let me look at you!”

“I should be saying that!” I exclaim, and her round face smiles like it was meant to forever. We could have gone to school together. We could have grown up together. Her eyes are a beautiful, rich brown. 

“I’m so glad,” she sings, actually sings. “There were words trapped in my heart and hearts locked in my head and I never knew how to sing them out. I’m so glad I know enough now. I’m so glad I met you.”

“Do you have a weapon now, Skye?” Aiden asks. 

“I don’t think so,” she responds. Taking her hands off my shoulders, she concentrates for a second. Slowly, patches of energy shimmer bright and fade in her hands and after a while, she is left holding a sleek electric guitar as white as her sweater. “Well, I  _could_  use this as my weapon!” she laughs, “but I think this is my emblem. I wonder if…” She concentrates again and this time, much faster, the guitar shrinks into a wristwatch. “Yup! My brothers’ emblems did this, too.” When I take a look at it, I realize it doesn’t have an hour or minute hand. It just tick, tick, tick, ticks out a beat. 

A metronome. 

All through Aiden’s and Torrent’s training, Skye keeps her hand in mine, and we swing our arms occasionally. She doesn’t talk, and neither do I, but I feel as comfortable as her sweater looks. 

“I think,” I say, and Skye cocks her head towards me. “I think if I had friends in school, this is what it would have felt like.” And I know she knows my heart better than I do; it’s one of the strange powers that some Pieces possess. But when she squeezes my hand, I am given a flash of her heart, of compassion, pity, and hope, mixed into one jolt that travels up my arm. “I am glad I met you, too.”

And as if to mark off the end of an era, Aiden and Torrent evolve at the same time. Neither of them scream. Aiden falls, but Torrent doesn’t, standing straight up, even as I hear his bones cracking to arrange themselves differently. 

Aiden stops glowing first. He stands up and he’s tall, gigantic. Taller than Steven. His skin is the color of mahogany, dark and deep, and his eyes looks like they’ve been touched by fire. Even in the daylight, they glow. Orange hair, cut close to his skull, matches his orange tank top. He has on dark grey capris that come to his shin and when he turns around to test his legs, I realize he has two stone circles embedding into the material of his top, as if they had grown there. It’s simple, as far as final evolution clothes go, but what more than makes up for it are the tattoos that travel up his right arm, cerulean against chocolate skin, weaving and circling until they reach the seven red lines that stand out sharply. Immediately, he thrusts out his hands, and a heavy sword that looks vaguely like an abnormally large knife materializes with the energy. 

“Hm,” he says, and then starts at the sound of his deeper voice, “Alexa, this thing is taller than you.”

“Aiden, you look so cute,” I blurt out and I can’t help but run to him. Right as I reach his arms, which are held out for me, Torrent stops flickering. 

And I stare. 

His hair is still blue, but longer now. The right side falls across his face until he rakes it out of the way, but the left side is pulled back behind his ear and held flat against his skull with three orange pins. He’s dark, too. Not as dark as Aiden, but more cinnamon-colored, sun-kissed. He has on a navy long-sleeved shirt, wide cut, and a grey sleeveless cardigan that looks velvety thin. The navy skinny jeans. The three earrings on his left ear that look like they’re made from solid topaz. The way his height seems to line up perfectly with Steven’s now. None of it matters. 

What matters is the way he cautiously taps his ear with his finger. 

“Lexa?” he calls, voice smoother, but unchanged in pitch. Same eyes, as grey as river rocks. 

“Torr—“ 

He lunges at me. As soon as we touch hands, there’s a bright white glare, like the evolution light, and a stinging pain in my right hand. 

We both look down and see letters, gold, glittering, that circle our middle fingers like rings. “COVENANT,” it says. Torrent falls to his knees and buries his face in my stomach, his arms wrapping around me. I pet him with trembling hands. He smells like a storm over sea, like earth after rain. 

“Say my name, Lexa. I can hear you. Say my name.”

“Torr…” my voice fades out. I try again. “Torrent. Torrent.”

“I don’t want you to stop talking,” he says, laughing, but my shirt is wet. “I don’t want you to ever stop.”

We stay like that for a very long time.  

“Torrent,” I ask when he stands up, much taller than me now, than Briar (as we predicted), “Torrent, what about your disability? What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he responds, flexing his fingers. “I can taste, I can see, I can smell and hear and feel. And everything seems okay in my head. I really don’t know.” 

“Maybe it skipped you,” Skye says, bouncing up to us. “Does that happen for starters?”

“I’ve never heard of it happening, but there’s a first to everything,” he grins, then looks at Aiden. “Holy shit, you’re tall.”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get used to it. How’s the weather down there?”

Torrent shakes his hand and calls his weapons. Two circles blades flash in, large enough so that I could fit through them if he dropped them on top of me. The edges look sharp; they seem to disappear into each other. 

“You get a big ass sword and I get spinny thingys?” Torrent complains. “These are hella cool, though.”

“Hella,” Aiden deadpans, and then bites his tongue, grinning. There’s a small stud fixed into the center of it. It looks like a turtle. But before I can point it out, something buzzes. 

“ _Found you,_ ” says Capala’s voice in my pocket. I look around for her, but only see trainers and a sinking sun. 

“Where are you?” I ask.

“ _I am at the hotel. We tried to call you several times, but you did not answer. So I used the cables underground to find you._ ”

“Sorry, Capala. I was focusing really hard on evolving these guys.”

“I _t is fine. But Briar wants me to tell you that he saw Yin and Yang. He asked me to eavesdrop so I did. They are going to Mt. Pyre._ ” Torrent reaches over and shakes me gently, loosening the sudden tension in my shoulders. “ _Briar says if we start early tomorrow, we can still make it before late afternoon._ ”

“I’m going now,” I say, and Torrent’s eyebrows quirk into a worried question mark. “We’re pretty far out. It’ll be better if we start now.” 

“ _Briar says you can’t because you’ll be traveling in the dark and you need to sleep._ ”

“He can stop me if he wants. But he’s going to have to come and get me. And I’m moving towards Mt. Pyre starting now.”

Silence. 

“ _Briar cracked a glass cup with his hands and said fine. Skyra asks if Skye is okay_ ”

“I’m okay,” Skye says. 

**********

The water is pitch-black.

I do my best to suppress a shiver, but Torrent puts an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. 

“Sorry I’m not that warm, Lexa. I don’t even have a jacket to give you anymore. But it’s just a little bit further.”

“It’s not that bad,” is all I can manage without my teeth chattering. He snorts. Even with Skye’s sweater on, the chill seeps through my thin dress and shorts and into my bones. It doesn’t help that the surfboard we’re sitting on is metal. Maybe Briar was right. 

No, Briar was definitely right. But I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. To confront my dad about what he was doing, what was going on, to ask him why he had left Ash and mom and me at home. I wanted fuel for my hatred. 

“Yin and Yang are… bad, right?” My voice travels in the still air. It’s hard to see the rocks that blend into the night, but Torrent can see fine. 

“I don’t know, Lexa. They don’t give me a bad feeling. Your dad makes me fucking angry, but other than that, I don’t know.” 

“Do you feel different? After evolving? You had a personality change last time, but you seem pretty similar this time.”

“I feel like someone removed a handicap I never knew I was wearing. That’s always what evolution feels like. But I do have a headache. Maybe that’s my disability. Maybe I’ll be stuck with a semi-mild headache for the rest of my life.”

We both giggle quietly. 

“Steven told me not to use people as medicine.”

“He’s right,” Torrent says. I look behind me to squint at Torrent. He grins. “Look, I hate to agree with him, but trying to find salvation in other people won’t work. They aren’t the vaccine. They’re more like the needle to give the vaccine. A vessel. A helper. Something like that.”

“I saw you and Aiden talking a lot before you evolved.” 

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, different. I don’t know what changed about it. Is it sufficient to say it got smoother? It isn’t just that, though. There’s a certain quality to it. Experience? “Aiden’s pretty funny. He can’t sleep at night, so I talk to him. But he’s been sleeping soundly ever since Fortree.” 

“He doesn’t hate himself anymore.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he killed someone without any anger over it. He’s been so scared his fear and anger are going to get someone hurt. He’s afraid to touch people, because he might set them on fire. But when he thought that you were going to die, well, love can kill, too. I think he realized he does have the capacity to love and the ability to choose to harm someone or not. That he can control himself.”

“I was saved, and in return, save.”

“It’s a complicated feeling, isn’t it?”

I nod.

“Do you love Aiden?”

“I love you,” he answers. But I don’t push it.

When we finally land on base of Mt. Pyre, I let Aiden and Skye out of their PENs. I struggle out of her sweater and hand it back to her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want it longer?” she asks, standing in the moonlight with only her leggings on. She’s completely flat-chested. 

“You don’t have boobs,” I state. She looks down at her own smooth chest and then up. 

“Yeah. Pieces don’t. We don’t breast feed our kids, so we don’t need any of the tissues associated with it. But we still have these useless nipples. I’m not sure why. Then again, human males have them, too. Are you sure you don’t want my sweater longer? I’m much better at tolerating cold than you.”

“Useless nipples,” I giggle. “And I’m fine. Walking will warm me up.”

I’m wrong again. It’s Aiden that warms me up. At the first sign of a shiver, which happens as soon as we walk through the heavy stone doors, he picks me up wordlessly and cuddles me to his chest like a child. I feel sleepy in the surrounding warmth. 

“You’re quiet,” I mention, burying my cold nose into the crook of his neck.

“My mind is usually so noisy,” he replies. “I’m enjoying the silence. Do you want me to talk?”

“I want you to be happy.”

He knows what I mean. 

There are jars all over the floor made of white ceramic, painted with flowers in pale colors. They stand in lines and rows, like gravestones, like soldiers. The only light comes from half-burned candles that drip wax on dusty floors. 

“Ashes,” Skye says, looking at the jars, “I’d rather be planted in the ground.” (Burned or buried? What would have Ash wanted?)

There’s a stairway winding up a beam to another floor, but the starlight comes in through a side door. I hear voices. From the corner of my eye, I see Torrent bring a fast hand to his temple and then away. I feel a faint pain where he touches. 

“Torrent, you okay?” I ask. He jerks, startled, and then looks at me. His face is sharper now, lean. 

“You felt that, too, huh?” he smiles, “It’s alright. It’s better now. I think I just overexerted myself while training. But do you hear the voices?”

I nod.

“You can put me down now,” I say to Aiden. He places me gently and I am warm enough to move towards the door. The building opens up to the mountain side and a sky peppered with stars. With Lilycove nearby, I can’t see the Milky Way, but many of the constellations still swing in that slow, heavenly circle. 

“That’s a long walk,” Skye whistles, looking up the mountain path. Her eyes aren’t simply brown any longer. Around the dilated pupils is a thick ring of yellow. Is that the dragon in her? A thick mist shrouds the road after a couple hundred feet. Dim figures fade further into it. Voices. 

“It’s better if I carry you, I think,” Aiden says, “It’ll be warmer.” I don’t resist when he picks me up. He’s a mountain himself. 

We move into the fog. 

It’s eerie. It’s bizarre.

Thicker and thicker it swirls around until we can’t see anything anymore. Then, Skye has to walk in the front, pushing it back so we can at least follow the white-stone path. I’m near Aiden, so the heat keeps me warm, but Torrent’s hair is strung with dew and every couple of minutes, Skye gives her wings a shake, throwing soft patters onto the ground. 

“Ghosts,” Torrent mutters. Shades deep inside the fog seem to move in and out of sight. “Children, mostly. Poor bastards. They’ll find their way home, soon.”

“Where is home for them?” I ask. 

“The earth or sky or ocean or forest. They’ll find a home in many places. And when their time comes, they’ll see the world again. Perhaps in better circumstances.”

“Do you know for sure?” 

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Do you want it to be true?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will be true. The world will grant you everything. You merely have to open your hands and ask.”

“Not everything,” I correct, worried. 

“Everything,” he insists. I realize the tattoos on Aiden’s arm are glowing neon blue. The ghosts don’t pause for us; they always pass beyond our reach. 

“A lullaby. Can I have a lullaby?” 

(Children love lullabies, don’t they?)

“Of course,” Torrent agrees, “Skye?”

She taps her wrist and the electric guitar materializes. I expect a clean, metallic sound, but she plucks a couple of notes that sound like water drops. Even though it isn’t plugged into anything, it carries. Torrent hums something, voice rich. The guitar purrs a melody. 

“I’ll set my sail,

Fly the wind it will take me,

Back to my home, sweet home.

Lie on my back,

Clouds are making way for me.

I’m welcome home, sweet home.

I see your star,

You left it burning for me.

Mother, I’m here.”

Skye joins in on the second verse, singing the harmony of a song that must be familiar. 

(The children are listening.)

“Eyes open wide,

Feel your heart and it’s glowing.

I’m welcome home, sweet home.

I take your hand,

Now you’ll never be lonely

Not when I’m home, sweet home.

I see your star,

You left it burning for me.

Mother, I’m here.”

“And so you are,” a creaky voice answers back. We step into a little clearing where the fog seems to have lightened. There is an polished granite altar with two depressions on the top. Both of them are empty. On either side stand two small figures. When we approach, they become clearer and clearer, until they are two wrinkly elders. 

I feel the pain again in my temple. This time, it’s also behind my eyes. I glance at Torrent, but he doesn’t react.

The man and woman are both hunched over, hands and faces dotted with liver spots. They sit on little benches, each holding a lantern. Their eyes and hair are as milky as the fog. 

“Grandfather, grandmother.” I address them how Grandpa had taught me to address all elders in the Chinese and non-Chinese community. Being half-Chinese, I was expected to have perfect manners. Aiden puts me down. “Where are the Orbs? That’s what they came for, right?”

“Begone, evil spirit,” the man says to me, waving his lantern in a dismissive motion. “Wicked souls like you deserve no answer.”

An angry coil in the back of my head. Then nothing. 

(Am I wicked? Am I wicked?)

“I’m human, Grandfather. The relics. They’re gone.”

“I said begone! There is nothing for the likes of such blackness here.”

Skye grips my hand. Torrent narrows his eyes. 

“Am I wicked?” I ask. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, no,” the woman chants, “there is a soul of light here. Half-vision. Half-vision.”

“Darkness, darkness,” the man disagrees. 

“Then, two as one.”

“And one as two.”

**There is only me and you.**

“Where are the relics?” I interrupt, shoving the voice in my head away. I should have gotten that checked out at the hospital, but I had forgotten it in its absence. “They’re gone. Someone took them. Where?”

“Those who came had pure heart,” the women says, her lantern moving like a pendulum. “Pure of heart may come and go. This is not their final home.”

“They took it. You let them.”

“The Combs cannot be touched by you, sinner,” the man asserts, swaying. 

Torrent snaps his fingers, a look of insight on his face.

“This story. I know this legend.”

“It’s not a legend, lab-born rat,” the man intones. Aiden’s eyes flare but Torrent waves his comment away. 

“I only know the water side of it.”

“But I know the fire side of it,” Aiden says. “A Comb, like a hair ornament, that belongs to the God of Volcanos.”

“And a Comb that belongs to the God of Water. I wonder why we are never told both.”

“Because they fought,” Skye answers, “And the God of the Sky had to stop them. The humans were dying.”

“Groudon, Kyogre, and Rayquaza. I guess Team Magma and Aqua are still trying to wake them up. That hasn’t changed.” I turn back to the elders. “Grandmother, Grandfather, where have they gone?”

“Home,” they reply at the same time.

“But where is that?” I question, patient. Torrent and Aiden both turn their head to the right, feeling or hearing something I and Skye cannot.

Then, slowly, it comes rolling on its side, emerging from the fog and making the faintest metallic clink when it settles at my feet. I pick up a red and blue medallion that swirls together like the yin and yang symbol. Printed in the middle of the circle in gold font is the word “YIN”. I look up to see the fog darker in the distance, as if something was gathering. 

“ _…agged… Pass…_ ” I hear. “ _Jagged… Pass… Jagged… Pass…_ ”

They shift, as if waiting for a response. 

“Thank you,” I call out, hesitantly. 

They stay for a moment longer, then disappear. 

“I have to make a call to President Lytton.”

**********

On the way back down the mountain, Torrent trips and falls. 

Pain. My entire head and my eyes feel hot. Torrent is clutching his head as the tip of his toes dig furrows into the dirt. I stumble my way over to him but Skye keeps me back. Aiden leaps next to him, rolling him over. 

Then, as soon as it came, it’s gone. We both gasp in breaths. It must have been agonizing for him, to make him writhe like that. 

“Torrent?” I call. “Torrent? Are you okay?”

He turns in my direction, but he’s not looking at me. It’s like he’s searching for me. Like he can’t see me.

(But they say if you’re spared when you’re young, you develop a much harsher disability when you evolve.)

He shrieks with enough pain and anger to make me flinch back. The sound echoes up the mountain, multiplying the noise until tears well up in my eyes. 

“Torrent, what’s wrong?!” I cry. “Torrent!”

He doesn’t stop screaming, crawling to me in a shaking line, finally buckling under soul-shattering sobs. 

“Lexa, I can’t see you,” he howls and he can barely get the words out through his heaving lungs. “Lexa, I can’t see. I can’t see you. It’s dark.”

I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I’m frozen. 

“LEXA!” He screams. 


	30. Mossdeep

“Three fucking days!” Briar fumes, pacing in front of me. He’s been doing this for hours. There are red mushrooms and brambles everywhere and I take care not to touch anything. Skyra and Skye sit on either side of me, legs crossed, waiting Briar out. He’s only been this angry once. Aiden stands at a distance, quiet, as he has been since evolving. Capala is sitting in the air, watching Briar intently. “Three fucking days he spends rotting in a fucking dark room refusing to eat or to look at anybody.”

“You didn’t help,” Skyra remarks, drily. 

“I was trying to reason with him!” he spits, “I thought he had enough sense to listen to reason, but instead, he’s moping as if Alexa had died!” He lashes out with an invisible fist. There’s a crack and a tree almost falls on him. He catches it with a Sky Uppercut and wood shatters fly everywhere. Both Skye and Skyra extend their wings to protect me from the sharp splinters. 

“ _If it is time that ticks, why do we not go to the area without Torrent?_ ” Capala’s voice buzzes from my phone. “ _We received Fly from President Lytton. Everything is ready to go. So why do we not?_ ”

“I don’t want to leave Torrent behind,” I say. “And this is a problem that won’t go away with time. I’m not sending him into any fights like this, either. He can’t see anything.”

“He can,” Aiden states. I turn my head to him. “He’s ground and water type. He can see anything that touches the earth and anything that touches the water. He just needs to be reminded of it.”

“He’s not going to listen if we just go and tell him that,” Skye argues. “His heart is only listening to himself right now.”

“I know. But I think that if I can make him angry enough, he’ll be able to see. So that he can attack me.”

“Why you?” Skyra asks. “Briar is faster. He can dodge Torrent’s attacks while getting him worked up.”

“Because I know how anger works. I lived with it for a very long time. I know how to make someone see red and I know how to use it. All you have to do,” and he looks directly at me, “is trust me.”

“I do,” I answer immediately. When Briar opens his mouth to protest, I hold up my hand and shoot him a glare. He shuts his mouth with a scowl. “I do trust you. I have, ever since you joined the team. And I think you’re right. So if you can do it, do it. If you can’t, that’s okay, too. But I want to watch.”

“Okay,” Aiden says, holding out his hand for his weapon. “But you’ll have to stay far away. Briar can be closer, just in case I need help. The rest of you need to stay back. There’s going to be rocks and fire and God knows what else.” He looks around, lifting the sword and putting it on his shoulders. “Is there a clearing anywhere nearby?”

“West from here, a two minute run.”

“Go and wait there. I’ll get Torrent. And still be alive, hopefully.” 

Since it’s a short flight away, Skyra simply scoops me up and takes off. And although I’m nervous for what is about to happen, I can’t but help to smile. Flight is one of the best things I have ever felt. And just like the first time we used Fly, there’s not a breath of wind. 

“There’s a pointy shield made of energy,” Skyra had tried to explain, “and it protects you from the wind but also pushes the air currents below my wings so that I can just glide.” After thinking a while, she had added, “It’s not as fun as regular flying, but it’s useful. And I’m glad you’re up here with me. That’s fun.”

We land in the clearing with a thump, and Skyra instantly starts to herd Skye, Capala, and me into the forest. 

“We can watch from the trees,” she says. “I bet the ground will be flooded.” We settle down in a branch just in time. 

Torrent flies into the clearing, shattering the ground with the force of his impact. Slowly, he gets back up as Aiden walks in a large circle around him. 

“What do you want,” Torrent says. Aiden doesn’t answer and instead, swings his sword at the ground. A flurry of rocks rise up and shoot at Torrent, hitting him and sending him flying again. My heart hurts in my chest. I will not cry. 

“Torrent, Torrent, Torrent,” Aiden’s voice is mocking. “How are you supposed to hit me if you can’t see?”

There’s a flash of gold in Torrent’s hands and his circular blades (Briar had called them chakrams earlier) shoot out at Aiden’s general direction. They loop around him, not touching him, not even close. 

“I guess we’ll have to replace you,” Aiden sneers, walking and dragging his sword on the ground. “Useless. Unloved. How do you breathe?”

“I don’t want to,” Torrent responds, almost inaudibly. 

“Liar, liar, LIAR!” Another sweep of his blade. Another Rock Slide. Torrent can’t dodge. “I lived with a tattoo telling the world how much I hated myself. You think you can speak those words so easily?” 

Torrent pushes the rocks off him, getting to his feet. 

“Where’s Alexa?” Aiden sings. Sadistic. “Where’s Alexa?”

“I don’t know.” 

I clutch my chest, hurting. 

“Where’s Alexa? Where’s Alexa?” 

“I DON’T KNOW!” Torrent screams. He throws his blades again and a jets of mud follow their path through the air. He misses again. “I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!”

When Aiden comes close enough, I realize something. His eyes are cool. His voice may sound angry, but Aiden isn’t. He isn’t mocking Torrent. This isn’t real. He’s really trying his best to help Torrent. 

“What if she’s dead?” he taunts. “What if she’s been killed? Where’s Alexa? Find her! Find—“

“I CAN’T FIND HER! I CAN’T SEE.” He’s lashing out in random circles, but Aiden dodges everything easily. “I DON’T KNOW WHERE SHE IS. I’LL NEVER SEE HER FACE AGAIN. I’LL NEVER FUCKING SEE THOSE EYES STARING UP AT ME OR HER SMILE—“

“But you can hear her voice, can’t you?!” Aiden throws his sword, slamming Torrent against a pile of rocks with Strength. “You can smell her?! You can taste her tears and feel her hands—“

“YOU CALLED ME USELESS. I AM. I AM USELESS. WHAT CAN I DO? I CAN’T EVEN FIGHT YOU! I NEED TO SEE! I NEED TO—“

“YOU ARE WATER TYPE AND WHAT?!” Aiden shrieks. His sword flies back to his hand and he slashes the air. Overheat. Bright flames so intense I have to screw my eyes shut. “YOU ARE WATER TYPE AND WHAT?!” Torrent gets up, achingly, wiping blood from his nose. “WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?!” With each question, Aiden slams his sword into Torrent and it takes longer and longer each time for Torrent to stand up. 

“SHUT UP!” Torrent howls. He lets his blades fly. Another miss. 

“WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?! WATER TYPE AND WHAT?!”

Then, just as Aiden is about to throw his sword again, it happens. Torrent’s blades spin directly towards Aiden and he has to twist out of the way to dodge them. But before he can put his foot back on the ground, a geyser bursts through under him and hits him hard. Torrent leaps forward, arms over his head, and Aiden barely rolls away from the Strength that fissures the ground with as much power as an Earthquake. I see Briar start to move but it is too late. Torrent’s hand is around Aiden’s throat and he drives his blades forward. 

I do not look away. 

He stops, blades millimeters away from dark skin. Aiden’s face is as calm as mine. I can hear his harsh breathing, his pounding heart. Briar stops moving. Everything feels silent. Nothing moves, except the flames that are dying out in the dirt. 

“Ground,” Torrent declares softly, “Water type and ground.”

Of course. I did not doubt Torrent for a second. 

“Welcome back,” Aiden says.

I’ll tell Torrent that I didn’t see the tears that dripped onto Aiden’s collarbones. 

**********

When we approach Jagged Pass, medallion in hand, doors that were hidden behind a stone facade swing open smoothly, without a sound. The first thing I notice is the heat that drifts through the opening.

“I should have brought my summer clothes,” I grumble, looking down at my leggings and collared, long-sleeved shirt. Torrent chuckles. 

He’s subdued. His eyes look exactly the same, even though he can’t see from them. As grey as river rocks. I squeeze his hand, hoping he can feel how much I love him.

“I love you, too,” he replies, as if I had spoken out loud. I nuzzle my face into his arm because he can’t see me smile. Skyra pats my bottom with her wing, urging me onward. The three of us stride into the cave, ignoring the heat. 

Yin and Yang. The grunts mix together again, working with each other, moving boxes. 

“Hey!” 

I turn to face the grunt who has noticed me. An Aqua member. 

“You know me, don’t you?” I question. 

He’s about to respond by throwing his PEN, but he stops. I see recognition dawn on his face. Other people turn to look. 

“I will ask the same question as last time. This will be a blood bath if you attack. Is it worth losing your Piece?”

He hesitates, then lowers his arm, gripping his PEN tightly. I walk forward and the crowd parts for me. 

Up the stairs and down hallways that are hewn from rock. Past pools of lava that bubble and boil with popping noises. Torrent moves me away from certain sections of ground, even though I can’t see anything wrong with them. But he knows, and I trust him. His sight pulses through the ground now, locating object and people and Pieces without having to look around. 

At night, he traces the curves of my face, fingers dipping over my eyes. Once, he felt the ridges of my teeth. 

“It hasn’t changed from yesterday,” I always say.

“I can see that,” he always responds. Sometimes, I wake up with his hand on my face. I never push it off. 

Familiar voices. I stop right before an intersection in the hallway and peek out. 

“Two people,” Torrent murmurs without having to look. “Archie and Maxie, I think, by their height.”

“Yeah,” I say. Skyra looks, too, over me. “But something else. You can’t see it. It’s floating over the lava and not touching anything. It’s sorta hazy, though.”

“It’s the God of Volcanoes,” Skyra says. 

I squint. The haze parts for a second and I’m given a clear view of the Piece. He’s wearing a ruby robe that goes down to his shins with a white collar and long, sweeping sleeves. Embroidered in gold thread are intricate patterns that ring out in circles from his belt, but he’s too far away to see exactly what the patterns are. Brown, wide pants and bare feet. Black hair, just like mine, flutters in the rising heat. Under a crimson circlet, he wears a veil that moves in slow ruffles.

I see my father’s back, strong and broad. He stands like a sailor, feet apart, hands behind his back. Uncle stands with his arms crossed, just looking. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say, sitting with my back against the wall. Even though he can’t possibly know where they are, Torrent always meets my eyes. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, but I’m already shaking my head and standing up. 

“Of course I do,” I say, “He is family. No matter what.”

Both of them turn when we approach. So much has happened since I have last seen him. I’m not just angry anymore. I’m not just disgusted. I’m curious. I’m curious to see the cause that made him leave us. Mom said he loved us. But he left. Where does that leave me?

“I’m going to challenge the Piece Keepers,” I say, before he can open his mouth to speak. “I’m going to become Champion. I have connections now. Not a lot, but enough. My team is strong and I’m learning to be a good trainer. And I’m going to ban PALs. I don’t think they should exist.” 

He shifts and looks at Maxie, who looks back. Something wordless passes between them. 

“I want to know what you’re doing. The couple at Mt. Pyre let you take the Combs. They said you had a pure heart, so what you’re doing can’t be bad. I want to see if I can help.”

“Go home, Alexandra,” Archie says, “this is too dangerous for you.”

“So was living with Ash.”

He flinches at that.

“So was learning he had been eaten. Were you there for that? Did you see your son die?”

“No,” he shakes his head, shuddering, hand clawing at his heart the way I do when something is too sad to bear. “No.” He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. Maxie doesn’t say a word.

“Mom is good.” I don’t know what else to say to that pained face. “She’s learned to bake really well. And she hasn’t been cheating on you, or anything. I mean, there hasn’t been any guys around. I was thinking of going to college, but I’m missing a year of school. Maybe I’ll take a gap year and go. Or maybe I’ll do art, like Mom. I’m alright at painting, but I like sculpting. Torrent would help be Champion while I was gone.” 

Such pedestrian, boring things. We’re surrounded by lava in a cave deep inside the earth with a sleeping God waiting to be woken up, but I talk of the other universe I was in for sixteen years. I tell Archie about what my school was like. I tell him what foods I can make now and which books I enjoy. His eyes never leave my face, and my eyes never leave his. His skin is tanned. He has the same eyes Grandpa has, that I have. 

“Mom is waiting for you. We always set a fourth place at the table. She still has all your clothes in the drawer and closet. I help wash them sometimes. But I think she likes doing it alone.”

At this, he breaks my gaze, stepping away, sobbing. He crouches on the ground, the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes. 

I step back, surprised. Torrent and Skyra each put an hand on my shoulders. 

“It is better for you to not be involved,” Maxie says, kindly. “Especially as future Champion, it’s not good for you to be associated with terrorists.” 

“Real terrorists don’t call themselves terrorists,” I point out. “Does that means you know what you’re going to do is bad, but you’re going to do it anyway?”

“People will die,” he agrees. “But it must be done. You see, we also do not think PALs should exist. But evil is approaching. A champion will not be enough to stop it.”

“What kind of evil? A foreign evil?”

“A human evil, for we have the capacity to do the most evil of all.”

“I want to know. I’ve been kept in the dark about so many things. I want to know what’s going on. Dad,” I appeal to Archie, who stands up with tears dripping down his face. “I want to help. I want to know.”

“In two months,” Archie says with unsteady voice, “you will find us at the Mossdeep Space Center. If you are there by then, if you have beaten seven Gym Leaders by then, we will defer to your authority and we will let you help. We will tell you everything. By then, we will have everything in motion. And you may doubt my actions, but know that I would never,  _ever_  do anything to make my daughter anything less than proud of me.” He turns to the God. Out of his pocket, he takes out the Comb, sapphire-colored with delicate schools of golden fish and waves. “Everything I’ve done was to make this world a better place for you and Ash. That has not changed.”

He whips his arm forward, throwing the relic at the God. 

The God catches it. His eyes open, shining yellow beneath his red veil. He walks towards us, on air, and when his bare feet touch the ground, Torrent looks up. 

“You have woken me,” he says. I see the embroidery on his robe now. Mountains and valleys and deer and earth. “Is it time for the earth to grow again?”

“No,” Maxie answers. “We need the God of the Skies.”

The God looks at the comb in his hand, sparkling in the light of his eyes, and tucks it into his belt. 

“I see.” His voice is deep. He turns to Archie and studies him. Then, he walks towards me. 

“No!” Archie exclaims, but the God does not stop until he is standing before me. Torrent tries to pull me back but I resist. The God’s face is hidden behind his veil.

“Do you also need my Mother?” he questions, tilting his head. 

“Yes,” Skyra says. 

“Yes?” I look at Skyra, confused. 

“Yes,” she repeats. Torrent nods, tense. 

“Hm.” He bends forward until his face is directly in front of me. “Human of two spirits, is it a cleansing you desire?”

“Yes,” Torrent answers for me. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I’m too frightened to speak. 

“Human,” and his breath his hot, “do you dare touch a God?”

Slowly, I reach forward and pull his veil up and put it behind his head. Dark skin, high cheekbones, sharp nose. His hair is rough. Liquid gold eyes. He laughs and his teeth glint sharply. 

“I wait for my sister, then,” he says. “Remember to bring and offering. Half Gods require flowers and wine. Real Gods require blood.”

He walks back to the pool of lava, steps in, and sinks out of sight. 

“Cleansed?” Archie turns to me. In this heat, the tears have already evaporated from his face. “What does he mean? What happened to you?”

“I’ll see you in Mossdeep,” I reply and then turn away. 

**********

I would live in Mossdeep. 

It reminds me of California, with it’s steady wind and eternal sunshine. Trees, mostly pine, reach towards the sky, rustling in small pockets of forests. I can see children playing on the beach. As Torrent guides the board closer to the island, I see a giant building, and iron supports next to it. 

“I think that’s the space center,” I say. 

“Can’t see it yet,” he replies. “Are we going to the gym immediately? If we are, I can land closer to there. I think it’s at the northern point.”

“It’s up to you. Everybody else is good to go, but you’ve been Surfing with me for a while now. Do you want to rest?”

“Nope,” he takes a steep turn around a boulder that has barnacles growing on it. “This doesn’t tire me out. Let’s get this over with and then go trash Steven’s house.”

“Be nice,” I remind him, smiling. I lean back into him and he kisses my nose. “I’m glad I kept my summer clothes. It’s warmer here.”

“It’ll get colder.”

“Yeah, but for now, it reminds me of home.”

The sea is green here, like it is in the Caribbeans in my universe. I see a Magikarp Piece underneath me, idly floating in a general direction. I wave at her. She looks at me, orange hair swirling around her head, and waves back. 

We wade to shore, the sand cool beneath my bare feet. Torrent flips the surfboard up and catches his two chakrams on the way down while I release everyone from their PENs. Beyond the beach, up a set of weathered stairs carved into the side of a small cliff, is the Gym. Skye doesn’t waste any time. She picks me up and rockets to the top of the cliff with me. Skyra grabs Torrent and does the same, but doesn’t put him down as gently. He rolls beside me. 

“You disgusting, mother-fucking bird do not  _ever_  do that again,” he hisses when he can stop breathing hard. “I am  _blind_  in the air.”

“You’re blind out of the air, too,” Briar says when he catches up. Capala floats over the cliff, unhurried. Aiden bounds up the stairs. 

“You’re a fucking dick,” Torrent curses, but accepts the hand that Briar holds out. “I’m so glad I didn’t date you.”

“Right. Because I was falling heads over heels for you.” Briar has to look up now, but he’s as sarcastic as ever. Still, he smiles and ruffles Torrent’s hair, reaching up to do so now. One of Capala’s face plates accidentally brush Skyra, who wrenches herself backward and away from her. 

“ _I am sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you,_ ” Capala says, moving away. Skyra stands tense for a beat or so, but slowly relaxes. She reaches out and places her palm on one of the plates.

“It’s alright. Wasn’t your fault.”

Capala blinks twice, then smiles hesitantly. Skye squeezes my hand, bouncing and grinning. 

“Alright,” Briar says, when Aiden reaches the top of the staircase. “Let’s kick ass.”

When we walk into the Gym, my eyes have to adjust to the dimness. The only light pours in from two windows all the way in the back. The entire Gym is one room. It’s empty. Except all the way in the back is an honest-to-god throne. Two set of eyes look back at us. 

“So you’ve come,” one of the figures say. We get closer and find twins, a boy and a girl, who look older than me by a couple of years. They have black hair and pale faces with small noses. They’re lounging in the throne, legs tangled, leaning against each other. The boy wears a baseball cap backwards, along with grey basketball shorts and a black t-shirt that says “PSYCHO” in white font. “Haru,” the boy says, “do you think they know who we are?”

“She has the same eyes, Hansol,” the girl replies, tilting her head. She is wearing the same shirt, big on her, tucked into a grey skirt. Black eyes. “Same as her brother.” Narrow eyes filled with maliciousness. 

“We never knew her brother. And she isn’t responsible for anything he did,” Briar growls. 

“Why do they hate you so much?” Skye mutters. She stays close to me. 

“Oh, they don’t know us, Haru.”

“Your brother killed our Pieces.”

“Every last one of them.”

“I’m so—“ I try to interject, but they talk over me.

“We raised them by hand from their birth.”

“Until their death.”

“You see, Hansol and I are good trainers.”

“Good Gym Leaders.”

“But your brother, he was insane.”

“A criminal. A murderer.”

“And he had PALs.”

“How unnatural.”

“How sickening.”

“How disgusting.”

“That murderer.”

My head spins with their words. Something angry hisses in the back of my head. I don’t have time to pay attention now, because Haru and Hansol draw out PENs without moving from their position. 

“But it seems,” Haru says, “that you have PENs, unlike your brother.”

“That’s good,” Hansol continues. They both throw their PENs. “That means every single one of you can die.”

“DADDY, MOVE!” Skye screeches and lifts me out of the way. 

“Earthquake,” Hansol calls out. 

“Psychic,” Haru yawns. 

Skyra grabs Briar as the room splinters under a Pieces assault. Torrent braces himself for the hit; it won’t affect him that much. Aiden jumps away from a spike that tries to follow him, closer to the back wall. I hear a pained cry from my phone. 

“Capala, Thunderbolt!” I yell. A bright sizzle of electricity. One of the Pieces go down but flaps his wings, hard, still alive. “Torrent, Surf!” I hear the roar of the ocean and water bursts from the cracks in the ground, hitting both of the Pieces. I can see them when the water clears. I see red hair, black hair. White sleeves and red rocks spinning in fast circles and white wings tipped with black. But they disappear when the twins call out their next order. 

“Psychic,” they say at the same time. There’s a small disturbance in the air, like how the air wavers over a hot road. Capala jerks her head to the right and it passes by her with millimeters to spare, but Torrent is hit and I hear him curse. 

“Surf! Thunderbolt!” The water hits first, and the electricity scrambles along it’s surface, hitting both of the Pieces. The Xatu falls into one of the crevices and is swallowed by the earth. The Gym Leaders still have not moved from their throne. 

**Easy. Too easy.**

“Your turn, Sola.” Haru tosses another PEN. 

“Get him out of there!” Briar roars. Skyra drops him and streaks towards Torrent, who’s bleeding from the mouth. Aiden leaps forward, but not before the twins speak again.

“AncientPower.”

“Flamethrower.”

“NO!” I shriek. “NO! SKYRA!”

“MOMMY!”

The rocks hit Capala first when she slides in front of Skyra.

It’s the fire that kills her.

“ _Goodbye,_ ” I hear from my phone. 

No time, no time.

“SKYE!” I wriggle so that she looses her grip on me. “SWITCH WITH SKYRA. TORRENT, SURF!” Once again the water blasts from the ground as Capala falls. The Claydol is killed this time. The red rocks clatter to the floor beside the throne. 

**Too, too easy.**

“Your turn, Luna. Solarbeam.”

“Psychic.”

Skye makes it just in time. The Psychic hits her. Torrent grabs her by the arm before she falls into the earth and throws her to Briar. 

“Solarbeam.”

“Psychic.”

Aiden dives in front of the Solarbeam and Skyra hurls Torrent out. I sprint to him, taking the Hyper Potion vial out of my pocket. Skyra doesn’t scream when the Psychic hits her. 

“AIDEN, STRENGTH. SKYRA, ENDEAVOR.” I spray the vial into Torrent mouth. He shudders and open’s his eyes again. I look up just in time to see Aiden’s sword and Skyra’s katana hitting their targets. Skyra falters and falls from the air. 

“Psychic.”

“Flamethrower.” 

“SKYRA!” My throat is raw. “FLY! FLY!”

It’s too late. Fire roars. 

**So weak. Let her die.**

“BRIAR, MEGA DRAIN. AIDEN, STRENGTH.” The room is hazy. Skye struggles to stand and Torrent pushes my hand away. Blood bursts out of the Solrock’s mouth and eyes. She bleeds from every pore and disappears. 

“Psychic.”

“DAD!”

Briar goes down, down, down into the cracks. Torrent howls and water crashes into the remaining Piece, into the twins, into the windows. Glass shatters. Then, it’s like my soul leaves my body, like some puppet master is yanking my arms and legs up. Foreign joy blooms in my mind.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!” I hear myself laugh. “I WIN. I WIN AGAIN.”

They look at me, disgusted, hair plastered to their foreheads. 

“Just like your brother,” they say, revolted. Torrent looks at me from the ground, bleeding. 

Then, I am myself again.

“Pick up your dead, challenger.”

I do not move.

“Get your Sticker and TM, challenger.”

I do not move.

Torrent bleeds into the dirt.

**********

“Alexa, you haven’t slept.”

Skye pulls me up from my chair. Torrent lies unconscious in the hospital bed. He’s been this way for three days.

“Alexa, you have to sleep.”

I shake my head, but Aiden takes my spot in the chair. 

“Alexa. Alexa, please.” Skye is begging. 

I shake my head. My legs are numb.

“Alexa, go to Steven,” Aiden says. “Go to Steven’s house. He’ll know what to do.”

I shake my head.

“Get out,” Aiden orders. Skye pushes me. I resist. “Get out!” 

“Please! Go!” Skye pleads.

I stop resisting. 

Night. Stars out. Just follow the signs. It’s on the highest cliff, he said. Crickets. Fireflies. 

Dirt road. Stone path. Steps. Door. 

I ring the doorbell. Sit on steps. Don’t ring the bell again. Crickets. Fireflies. It’s on the highest cliff, he said. Just follow the signs. Stars out. Night. 

Door opens.

“Alexa?”

I look up. He looks down at me. Green eyes. Grey hair. 

“It’s three in the morning.”

They’re gone. They’re dead. 

They’re gone. 

They’re gone.

“I’m hungry,” I say.

He leans against the doorframe, looking at me. No shirt. Shorts. I see Bastion behind him.

He opens the door wider. 

“Come in,” he says. “We’ll make pancakes.”


	31. Garden

I make her pancakes.

When I lead her into the kitchen and pull out a chair for her, she sits, silent; she’s not entirely here. I can tell.

She looks like a PAL-caught Piece.

I triage her as much as I can without alerting her of it. Well, she’s breathing. That’s a start. No open wounds. Some bruises along her cheekbones and down her arm. Pupils look alright. No face sagging. No twitches. Dark, dark circles under her eyes.

Bastion watches from a corner, arms crossed. She starts to phase out her armor in gold bursts until she’s standing in gray shorts and a t-shirt. She has a long ponytail of grey hair, a similar color to mine, and yellow irises. Still, we could pass for siblings, with our almond-shaped eyes and pale face. That is, if it weren’t for her metal plated wings.

“Do you want to mix the batter?”

Alexa doesn’t respond. When I ask the question again, she nods. I hand her cups of flour, milk, eggs and she obediently mixes them together. I pour the batter on a pan, four small circles. She moves, opening cabinets, and sidles up next to me, two blue plates in her hands.

“Thank you,” I say, slipping the pancakes onto the plates. Does she have a concussion? Fever? She doesn’t look red. I take out cups and syrup, but Alexa is already eating. I originally made two for me and two for her, but after she finishes her second one, I give her another one of mine. She doesn’t seem to notice where it came from and keeps eating. I cut half of what I have left, slip it onto her plate, and slowly eat mine while she finishes everything. I take away her milk and give her water instead.

Where are her Pieces?

She sips the entire glass, steadily.

Where is Torrent?

Her left middle finger has the covenant on it now. Stavros’s and mine are right under our left collarbones. She’s wearing my ring on her thumb.

I give Bastion a look and she signs back at me in the half-movement, half-mouthing language we have.

“She smells like death,” Bastion signs inaudibly, quiet without her armor. Then she shrugs and makes the the sign of pity over her heart. “God bless this soul” is what it means. Any God. Maybe every God.

Alexa sets down her glass. What now? I look at Bastion for help.

“Would you like to take a bath with me, child?” the Skarmory asks, holding out an pale hand. Alexa takes it.

I lay out clothes, mine, because I don’t have anything else. Boxers, a t-shirt, and sweatpants that she’ll probably have to roll up at the waist. I hear splashing and it echoes in the large bathroom, bouncing off granite walls that I rarely see. I usually use the shower and the small bed in the guest room. Less space, less lonely.

I pick up a book then put it down. Where are her Pieces? Are they all dead? From what? The Gym? When I pull on a shirt, I look up to see her standing in the half-dark, moonlight reflecting off her eyes, and I flinch in fright.

“You scared me,” I confess, as calmly as I can. She doesn’t respond, black hair hanging down, dripping with water, white bathrobe coming to her feet. Every horror movie rolled into one. “Are these clothes okay? I’m sorry. I don’t have anything else.” She takes them and goes back into the bathroom as Bastion walks out.

She flicks her wings, spattering me with water.

“Nice,” I say, wiping my face.

She snaps her fingers, a flash, and her grey shorts and shirt come back. There is a corresponding shimmer in the bathroom as her clothes on the floor disappear.

“I need the sky. I’ll be back in a bit.” She opens the window and jumps out.

Liar. She’ll come back the next morning, exhausted, like she always does when she’s worried about something.

“Yo.” Sapphire eyes look in from the doorway.

“Won’t Stavros bite when he finds you’re not in bed with him?”

“He sent me down to check on you,” Damien says, only the top half of his face showing. The rest of his body is hidden in the hallway. “He sensed the child.”

I sit on my bed, the one I never use, and lay back, sighing.

“Go back to bed, Damien.”

Close my eyes. Hear him leave.

Open my eyes when I feel the mattress creak.

“You dried your hair?”

A nod. It’s damp now.

“Do you want to talk?”

She shakes her head. Her pants aren’t rolled up, so the legs go over her feet.

“Would you like to sleep together?”

I tuck her into the bed when she nods, settling next to her on the same pillow. It still smells like sunshine from the last time I washed it. She wiggles closer to me, off the pillow, until she is pressing her face to my chest, fingers clutching the fabric. Big eyes blink sky blue with yellow rings.

“It’s okay to sleep. Everything will be here when you wake up,” I say. Is she consoled by that thought? She glances at me, briefly, and then closes her eyes, the violet half-moons underneath cradling her lashes.

Bastion comes back in an hour, not a minute more or a minute less.

"Oh, good. You didn’t do anything,” she breathes. Whether she’s genuinely relieved or not, I can’t tell.

“I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Back when I was was eight, I would have jumped on her for challenging me with a comment like that, rolling her on the dirt, not caring that she could flick me off with a twitch of her wing, even though she was smaller than me. Now, I simply lock eyes with her, steady, infallible. She stares back, defiant, always my wild-card, always more headstrong than the rest of my Pieces. Then, she looks away and her wings droop until the tips brush the ground.

“I was worried,” she says quietly. “She is but a child, Steven.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

She makes a sound of disgust, but when I hold out my hand, she takes it, fingers cool and bony. I’ve held these hands for more than a decade, almost two. We’ve watched each other grow up.

“Go to bed, Bastion.”

She does so, yellow eyes peering at me once more before she leaves. Her armor phases back in chunks. She never sleeps without it. Not since Ash carved his permanence into my back with a kitchen knife.

The sun is just starting to lighten the sky. I close my eyes and when I open them, the sun is overhead and Stavros is sitting across from me on the sofa.

Pain in my chest. I take a couple of shallow breaths and look down. Her head is on my ribs, her arm thrown over me. A couple more shallow breaths. I look up to see Stavros smirking and gently extricate myself, taking care not to wake her.

“Ow,” I groan, moving my arms up and down. My ribs are sore beyond mentioning.

“What a terrible, frail boyfriend,” Stavros snickers.

“I don’t even know if that’s what I am. What do you want, Stavros?”

“I checked the gym,” Stavros starts, not smiling anymore. He runs his hand through his short-cropped hair. He doesn’t have on his jacket or his metal plates, just one of my long sleeved shirts and sweats. And his mask. “It’s dark inside. I checked the back, and the windows are blown out. It’s a fucking mess. Like someone used Earthquake without caring about the pipes or splitting the fucking island in half.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah. The cracks go down deep and it fucking feels like death down there. You know, it says something that no one has fixed it yet. That means the Gym Leaders don’t have any Pieces to repair damage with.”

“So she won.”

“If she’s the one that battled, then yeah. She did.”

“Where are the Gym Leaders?”

“Where the fuck else? Sitting on their tilted, concrete throne, eating candy and playing Animal Crossing.”

What now? I glance at her. She breathes deeply, carelessly. I feel the urge to run a light fingernail down her cheek.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Stavros remarks.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why? Your thoughts are funny sometimes.”

“Go fix the Gym for them. That’s our job.”

“If you say so,” Stavros shrugs and stands up, stretching with a flexibility I wish I had. My ribs and back hurt just from looking at him. “Make sure to take your medication.”

“Yeah, alright.”

He bends over me and kisses her on the shoulder, red eyes uncharacteristically concerned. Then, he kisses me on the forehead. Nineteen years we spent together. I got him as my fourth birthday present, as a blood egg that I kept with me wherever I went. I was the first person he saw when his soul formed, already looking older than me.

When he leaves, I swing my legs off the bed and get up. Doing the shoulder blade stretches the physical therapist told me to perform every morning, I wander around the house, taking deep breaths that send stabs of pain through my side. Three white pills. Glass of water.

What now?

Time passes.

What now?

I go back to the room to find her staring out the window, hands folded neatly on top of the blanket. She kicked off her pants at night, probably because it was too hot, and my black boxers look like shorts on her.

“Good morning.”

She looks my way and then looks back out the window. Maybe I can do the seizure test and coma scale. I walk over to her slowly, bare feet making no sound, and sit beside her.

“What’s your name?”

No response.

“Hey.” I shake her hand a bit. “What’s your name?”

“Alexandra.”

“Alexandra what?”

“Alexandra Ming-Zhu Oak.”

Alright. At least she knows that.

“What day is it?”

“Monday.”

Both of her pupils are the same size. No visible sagging of the face. Eyes unclouded. Skin color, fine. Temperature, fine. Pulse?

I hold her hand, two fingers at her pulse point, hoping she won’t notice what I’m doing. She doesn’t seem to care. Fifty BPM. Strong. That’s fine. She looks fine.

“Do you know my name?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s my name?”

“Steven Stone.”

“Where are you?”

“At your house.”

“Where is Torrent?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Where is Briar?”

“Dead.”

I stop myself from recoiling just in time. Briar’s dead. That snarky Breloom, with his crooked smile and clear eyes. A friend. A friend completely gone — what about the others? What happened to the others?

“Where’s Skyra?”

“Dead.”

“Where’s Aiden?”

“Hospital.”

“Capala?”

“Dead.”

“Skye?”

“Hospital.”

“Where’s Torrent?”

She hesitates, but answers.

“Hospital.”

Three dead, three in the Piece Center. She lost half her team. Half her team is deep underneath the Gym, being turned into grass and stardust and dirt. She doesn’t have a concussion. She’s in shock. She’s depressed. She—

“Why are you crying?” she questions, her voice monotone.

I quickly wipe away the tears with my shirt.

“Do you want to eat?” My voice breaks on the last word.

She shakes her head.

What now?

She lays down and goes back to sleep. Her breaths come evenly and the sun outlines the tiny capillaries on her hand.

What now?

When I walk into the kitchen, I see Damien eating the bag of iron screws I gave him so he wouldn’t eat the foundations of the house.

“Yo.” When his mask and armor are off, as they are now, he looks the most human out of all my Pieces. He could be a C-Key, if he wanted. But Stavros wants to stay with me, so Damien stays as well. “How’s the little princess?”

I inhale until my lungs beg for me to stop. Exhale until my body is starved for air. Repeat.

“In shock. Depressed. I mean, she had depression, but it was moderate. It’s severe now.” Push my hands together by my mouth like I’m praying. “Half her team is dead.”

He says nothing.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know. How do I get her to see a therapist? How do I get her to take her medication? How do I make her better? How—“

“You ask her.”

“And if she says no?”

“Then don’t do any of those things.”

“And what if she refuses to eat? Or drink? Or—“

“She’ll eat when she’s hungry. She’ll drink when she’s thirsty. She’ll sleep when she’s tired.”

“You expect me to do noth—“

He slams a hand on the table so hard, the wood cracks beneath his fingers, like thin ice. Damien is supposed to be the gentle one, the quiet one, but here he is, so furious that his mask materializes over his face. The only thing I can see is his mouth and royal blue eyes.

“No.” His voice is controlled, quiet, seething. “I expect you to follow your own damn advice. You tell us people are not medicine, but do you even know what that means? “Don’t find salvation in other people,” you tell us. Yeah, we got that. But I have never heard you fucking say, “find salvation in yourself.” It’s a two part thing, Dr. Stone. Do you think she’ll get better if she doesn’t want your goddamn help? No. She won’t. She’ll get better when she fucking chooses to get better. And if you’re gonna grind up tablets and spike her fucking drink with it, then you might as well pack her off to one of those insane asylums where they’ll force a fucking tube down her fucking throat to get her to eat.”

Stavros walks into the kitchen and freezes when he sees the situation.

“You don’t want to sit on your ass and wait? Then don’t. Ask her if she wants to do things. Ask her if she wants to eat. Ask her if she wants flowers or wolves or fucking video games. Because that’s the only thing you’re going to be good for right now. Until she reaches out to you for help, until she’s ready for that, the only thing you can do is ask. You’re so used to giving orders. You’re so used to having everyone listen to you. You’re so used to having people jump to their feet to applaud your fucking opinion and you’ve had no repercussions for it until now.” He stabs at the general direction of the bedroom. “She’s at stake here now. She’s the gamble. This is a human life. So why don’t you stop playing Mr. Doctor-CEO-President and start acting like a fucking decent human being.”

He holds my gaze for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. He finally looks away at forty seconds.

“Damien,” Stavros coaxes. “Come on.”

“We look away from him because we defer to him. It doesn’t mean he’s smarter than us. It just means he can piece together emotional and analytical and moral and a bunch of other fucking bits of information. That’s how his brain is wired. That’s how ours isn’t. That’s what makes him human. His ambition. His greed. But if he’s going to act like scum, then there is no fucking need for respect anymore.”

“Damien, you’re overreacting.”

“No, he’s not,” I concede, calmer now. I feel like two bones that were grating together were set back into place. “That was fair. Thank you. I needed that. But you didn’t have to break the table.”

“…Yeah,” he says, sinking back down into his chair after a long pause. He puts a handful of screws in his mouth. Stavros takes some, too. The mask disappears of his face with a sudden flash. “Probably. But I wanted to make a point. And I was angry. I’m tired now.”

“The last time you got that angry was seven years ago,” Stavros says, nudging him in the side with his knee. “I had to go in my PEN, you needed to apologize for creating the largest sinkhole ever recorded in the area, and we realized our hearts both pointed to each other.”

“It was eventful,” Damien agrees. “Eventful makes me tired.”

“Hell yeah it does. You wanna go make out while you’re still angry?”

“Don’t you go have to fix the Gym?” Damien is back to normal now. Stavros nuzzles into his shoulder and bites down hard enough to draw blood, but Damien puts another handful of iron into his mouth, patient, tolerant. They balance each other out very well.

“I just came back from fixing it. Steven, about her Pieces, I placed them in the forest for now, all three of them. Are we going to dig their graves on our property? Oh, by the way, the Gym Leaders are going to be coming over any second now.”

“What—“

The doorbell rings.

“We’ll talk more about the Pieces later,” I finish and hastily make my way to the door. The doorbell rings again, insistent.

“Hello, Ex-Champion,” they both say when I throw open the door. They each have a video game system in their hands, and a box of crackers in the other. “We need Bastion.”

“I heard you tried to kill Alexandra Oak.”

“Red Oak murdered our Pieces,” Haru says. Neither of them stop playing their video games.

“They aren’t the same person. She isn’t responsible for what her brother did.”

“They are both one half of their mother and one half of their father.” Hansol looks up, black eyes similar to mine. “That sounds like they are the same people.”

I rub my eyes. They aren’t being serious.

“You killed three of her Pieces. Three of my friends.”

“And she killed all of ours,” Haru hisses, eyes narrowed. “Do you think that we don’t care about our family because we don’t cry as you do, Ex-Champion Stone? Do you think tears are the only form of expression? We’re not sorry we killed her Pieces. Our Pieces wouldn’t be sorry either, if they were here to speak now. Gym battles must be and are consensual for every party that fights, but Pieces die, people die, and that’s how life is, Ex-Champion. You should know better than anyone. Now will you lend us Bastion or not?”

“That’s a very nasty tone for a couple of C-Keys who don’t have any form of defense,” Stavros coos, hooking his chin over my shoulder.

“Hello again, Stavros,” Haru says. She resumes playing her game. A flutter of wings behind me.

“I’ll take them,” Bastion says, striding out the door. She flips her saber into the air.

“Yay,” Hansol says, moving his sister and himself out of the way. The saber flashes, changes, and thumps on the ground as a large metal basket, similar to the ones under hot-air balloons.

“Get in. I’ll be back late, Steven. Meteor Falls first, right?”

“Yeah.” They hop into the basket. Bastion grabs the long handle and flaps hard. They shoot into the air, coast, and then disappear into the late afternoon sun. From the corner of my eye, I see sheer curtains sway in the wind.

Her window is open.

“They look like you,” she murmurs when I walk in, chin in her arms. She’s sitting by the window seat and her hair ripples in the same breeze that moves the curtains. “Same shaped eyes. Bastion, too. You would be Korean in my world, I think.”

“It’s Kanto lineage here, at least for humans. Appearance of Pieces seem to be vaguely based on their type, but that’s just something I’ve noticed.”

I settle next to her and she looks up at me, not quite meeting my eyes.

“They told me to come here. I was at the hospital and they told me to get out and go find you. They said that you would know what to do.”

“I’m pretty sure I know what to do,” I say carefully. “But I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to.”

Glance at me. Glance away.

“I wanna brush my teeth,” she says, sitting up.

“Alright. Let’s get you a toothbrush.”

“You brush your teeth, too.”

“Alright.”

**********

There’s something unspeakably comforting about having a morning routine. There’s something achingly satisfying about waking up the person beside you, about two people sleeping in a bed appropriately meant for two. Sometimes, I wake up with her gazing back at me, neither of us completely conscious.

“You snore,” she says sometimes.

“Sorry,” I respond.

“Don’t worry. It’s cute.” Then, that half-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.  

In the bathroom, she hops back and forth on one foot, then the other, trying to keep herself off the cold marble. We brush our teeth together. While I shave, she counts out my pills, fills a glass of water.

“What are they for?” she asks one morning.

“Anti-depression, anti-anxiety.”

She takes a long look at them. White tablets scored by a single line. They leave a disgustingly sweet aftertaste in the back of my throat.

“Doctors take medication, too, huh?”

“Of course.”

“Is this on the list you showed me that one time?”

“Yes.”

She examines the orange bottle, reading the prescription, but doesn’t say anything further. I don’t push it.

She’ll eat breakfast at times. Maybe lunch. Rarely dinner. Or she’ll eat nothing the entire day and spend the hours in bed with the blinds drawn. I make sure to leave water beside her on those days. But Damien was right. She eats when she is hungry. She sleeps when she is tired. She hasn’t lost the will to live and perhaps she’s refusing to. When I look into her eyes, I see someone who is exhausted, but not too exhausted to continue existing.

“By the way, when is your birthday?”

She looks up from the leather-bound book she’s leafing through. It was beside her when I came back from the Psychiatric Center yesterday night; she must have fallen asleep reading it. It’s a book of Kanto fairy tales. The late-afternoon sunlight sends sparks running along her hair and gleams on my ring around her thumb. Just my shirt and boxers again today.

“December 31. The last day of the year,” she answers.

I set down my book.

“That’s very soon. It’s about a week from today.”

“So it is.” She returns to the page she’s reading, stretching her legs out in front of her and on top of my lap. Her calves are wiry from walking; the mark of a traveling C-Key. Tiny, pointed feet. I tap the blue couch beside her thighs to get her attention.

“Do you want anything?”

She holds up the hand with the ring on it.

“You’ve already given me enough.”

Gratitude? I’ve never seen that before. I don’t know how to respond, so I scratch the back of my head, wincing when my ribs pull at the sudden motion.

“Everybody gives me so much,” she muses. She sets down her book and climbs into my lap. I automatically adjust now, from habit. Her head nestles into my shoulder and my arm curves around her waist. She holds my free hand, gently. “I don’t know why.”

“Maybe it’s a blessing,” I say as she settles in between my legs. Her eyebrows quirk into a question mark. A week ago, her face would have been blank. “Maybe one of the legendary Pieces put a blessing on you so that all things go your way.”

“Not all things,” and her voice is quiet in grief. I close my eyes and let her pluck the loose threads in the bottom of my shirt. She doesn’t cry, though. She hasn’t. Maybe she doesn’t need to. Curled up like this, her head fits into the crook of my shoulder. She’s a pocket-sized girl. “Is your backyard empty?”

Still with the wrenching topic changes.

“Empty? What do you mean?”

“Are you using it for anything?”

“No. Why?”

“I would like a garden for my birthday.” She looks up, biting her already torn, bleeding lips. I brush my mouth against hers to remind her to stop and she smiles, the corner of her eyes crinkling the tiniest bit. “Not a finished garden. I wanna do it myself. No. Together. I wanna build it together with you. That’s what I would like for my birthday. I don’t want a cake or anything else. I don’t want anybody to sing the song or anything like that. I would like a garden.”

“Alright. We can do that. What would you like to plant?”

“Vegetables that my mom had in her garden. And flowers. Lots of flowers. And maybe trees?”

I think for a minute, deciding whether to push my luck or not.

“I’ll give you a sketchbook. If you sketch the layout of the garden and what plants you want, it will be easier to pick up supplies. After, we can go choose the things you need together. How does that sound?”

It would be the first time she is leaving the house since she came. Her face, for one fleeting second, looks uncertain, and I am about to recant my offer, but her expression clears.

“Okay.”

She’s thinking of a tomorrow.

There’s an old saying that people who want to die don’t do gardening or farm work. They can’t tend plants with a future in mind. I’m sure it’s not scientifically true, but all the same, the proverb gives me comfort.

Later that night in bed, she sketches on the crisp, new pages of the sketchbook with a mechanical pencil, and I’m surprised to see how accurate and pretty the drawings of various flowers are.

“I told you, my mom was an artist,” she declares when I point it out. “I drew a lot with her. Lots of practice.”

“Still. You are very good.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. In the dim light, I’m not sure if her cheeks are red. I kiss her anyway and she kisses back for the first time in a while, hands curled like flowers petals in her lap. I break away laughing when she licks the roof of my mouth again, batting away the pillow she throws at my ribs.

On the morning of her birthday, while she’s still asleep, I confide my congratulations into her hair, praying for her health and happiness. But I don’t mention a word of it when she wakes up, as she wished.

When we do go shopping, she refuses to look anywhere but the ground or the plants. That’s alright. I know what she’s afraid of. We take the long way back and avoid the red-roofed Piece Center. Back at the house, she breathes a sigh of relief and sinks onto the wooden floor of the hallway. But that doesn’t stop her from gardening a little later, digging up soil with a spade, leaving dirt streaks across her face when she wipes away the sweat.

It’s hard work and the sun tries to make up for all my years spent in the darkness of caves. I don’t mind. She refuses Damien’s help when he offers. He understands and drags Stavros away into the town to do one thing or another. Bastion sits on the roof, keeping watch but not interfering.  

I make sure she drinks often.

“What’s wrong?” I ask when I see her staring at her hands. “Did you get a splinter?”

She shakes her head and continues digging.

“When I first came here, my hands were soft. But they have calluses on them now, like Brendan’s hands, or yours. My mom also had calluses.” A pause while she struggles with a rock. I kick the stone away from the point of her shovel and she continues digging. “In Asian culture — that’s a type of lineage. It’s sort of like Kanto. But anyway, in Asian culture, it’s always good to have soft hands and a pale face. My mom is Caucasian, but she grew up in Koreatown, so she knew some of these things and Grandpa is full Chinese, so he knew all of these things. But it was more my mom that told me to keep my hands smooth. She lived a pretty hard life and I guess she wanted to make sure I lived better than her. A life that had less work in it.”

“Do you miss your mom?”

“I don’t miss anybody.” Her mouth is set in a line. “Do you miss your brother?”

“No.”

She doesn’t pry. Some things are better left unsaid.

“Do you have other Pieces? In the video game, you have others. A Cradily and two more. I forget what.”

“I have a Cradily, a Claydol, and an Armaldo. They’re traveling, currently. They’re not the type to stick around, but they’ll come if I call. Whoever wants to stay can stay and whoever wants to go can go.”

She nods, spreading soil.

We set spinach and tomatoes and peas and lettuce and peppers. She plants Pecha berries for the sweet fruit and raspberry bushes to dye her tongue red. And all around, she plants rows and rows of flowers. Lilies, allium, hyssop, poppies, sage, plumeria, verbena, lantana, yarrow, lavender, hibiscus, bluebells. She throws wildflower seeds in empty patches of dirt, around fencing, on paths. She points to the flowers one by one with the hose, carefully avoiding butterflies and ladybugs. Some days, I come home and she’s still in the garden under the moonlight. She’ll wave me over and put a garter snake in my hands, or a turtle.

“They eat the bad bugs,” she’ll say and nestle them back among the lettuce.

One time, she falls asleep under the stars and instead of moving her back in, I bring out a blanket and sleep outside with her.

Stavros reports on the status of her Pieces each time he visits the Piece Center. They kicked him out today. They let him in today. Torrent woke up today. Torrent’s asked for Alexa today. They all asked for Alexa today. They begged for Alexa today. It’s pitiful, Steven, even for me. Can’t you talk to her?

But when I tell her Torrent is awake, she hides in the closet for the rest of the day, facing the wall. I’m too small to fit in there with her, so I sit outside, carrying her out when she falls asleep. In bed, she cuddles up to me, half-awake, apologizing for something I’m not aware of.

I don’t mention it again.

“Can I have one?” she asks one morning. I swallow half the cup of water before looking down, trying to wash away the taste in my mouth.

“Have what?”

“One,” she picks up a pill between her fingers. “You said it would make me feel better, right?”

I do my best to keep my face neutral.

“Yes. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“I’m not allergic to anything.”

“Then take one everyday for a week and then two everyday from there on.”

She weighs the pill on her palm, deliberating, and then quickly gulps it down with the water.

“Ew, it tastes weird,” she makes a face and then pulls me down to kiss her.

She tastes like mint and the faint dregs of the medication.

“Are you going to marry me?” she questions the next night, when I’m reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. I freeze and then slowly turn to look at her. She’s sitting up, pillow in her lap, serious. Her attire so far as been a cycle of my t-shirts and boxers. Shorts, sometimes.

“Are we dating?” I counter. I expect her to think for a moment, but she answers without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Were we on the same page this whole time?

“I intend to marry you, yes,” I say, evenly, “But whether you say yes or no is up to you.”

“I wanna be the one to ask.”

“You want to propose to me?”

“Will you say yes? If I propose?”

“Yes. I would say yes.”

“Then when the time comes. Yeah. I wanna ask so I can decide.”

I shrug my shoulders and turn off the light. She crawls into her favorite spot, huddled against my chest with her head on my arm instead of the pillow.

“Alright. I expect a fancy restaurant, flowers, a ring, and a quartet of violins playing my favorite sonata.”

When she laughs, I realize how much I missed that sound. It’s her first laugh in weeks. I want to kiss her, but I would rather die than cut the sound of her voice short.

“Alright,” she giggles, wiping her eyes. I blot away the tears that start to drip down her face. “Alright.” The moonlight in the window shifts while she sobs. “Do you love me?” she asks later, when she’s cradled in my arms, hair spilling over the pillow like soft ink. She asks shamelessly, boldly.

“Yes.”

“Is it because I remind you of Ash?”

“No.” I rub the back of her neck, where I know there is a scar. I don’t think she knows or remembers. “In the beginning, I liked you because your eyes were similar. But that’s not why I fell for you. You don’t remind me of him now. You don’t remind me of anyone. You are nothing but your own person.”

“Why do you love me?”

“Because you make funny noises when you sleep.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a poet?”

“Poets have the hardest time describing why they love someone.”

She smiles, sleepy, and brings her hand to my hair. My scalp tingles under her nails. I could watch her forever, the gleam of white teeth and fluttering eyelids.

“Do you love me?” I ask, uncertain of the answer.

“Yeah.” Her eyes are closed.

“Why?”

“I wonder.” She opens them again. “It’s not so much that you gave me a home, or that you remind me of home. To me, you are home. If somebody were to ask me where my home was, I wouldn’t think of this place or my house back in California. I’d think of you and your hands and the way you kiss the back of my neck in the morning and all the times we watched it rain from the back porch.” I’m too surprised by her response to say anything. She pauses, thinking. “I think it’s different from you being my medicine. I can live without you and I can get better without you. But you are something that I dearly want and dearly love and will fight to keep.” She looks at me, tilting her head. The pillow rustles. “You’re making that face again.”

“I love you,” I say. She draws the back of her hand up to her eyes, blushing crimson, but I stop her and prop myself up, my elbows on either side of her head. Her pupils are dilated. I breathe in her exhale. “I love you. Do you need me to write it down? Will you remember?”

“I’ll remember,” she whispers.

When we kiss, it is the sweetest thing in the world.

**********

The doorbell rings early in the morning, early enough so that it wakes both of us.

“I’m gonna get it first,” she mumbles, stumbling out of the blankets. When she turns it into a game, I rip the sheets off and sprint after her, throwing her over my shoulder when I catch her. It’s worth the dull ache in my ribs to hear her laugh, limply hanging over my shoulder. I set her down and she opens the door, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, President Lytton,” she says, surprised. “Hello.”

He looks as unassuming as ever. Black suit, green tie, green hair, green eyes. His gaze flickers from Alexa to me and then back to Alexa with a confusion I haven’t seen in a while. I know what he’s thinking. I know what this looks like. I rub my shoulder, trying to pat down her wild bed hair. Luckily, we’re both wearing shorts today.

“How old are you?” he asks her, setting his briefcase down.

“Hm?” she yawns, covering her mouth.

“How old are you?”

“Just turned seventeen. Why?”

He straightens up and hits me across the face so hard, my skull slams into the doorframe and my teeth cut the inside of my cheek. I manage to grab her by the wrist before she jumps on him, snarling.

“Alexa.” I have to call her name twice before she stops lunging at him. “Alexa.” I shake my head and my jaw pops. She turns to face me, anxious. “Ice, please. Can you, darling?”

“He hit you,” she quavers, her shaking hand reaching for my face. “He hit you!”

“Alexandra, ice. Please. Come inside, President Lytton.”

She takes a good look at me and then runs to the kitchen. I shoot a glare at Stavros, who is standing in the half-darkness of the stairwell. His eyes stop glowing red and the metal railings groan as the pressure eases off them. I hear the grind of the ice machine as it dispenses ice chips into a bowl.

“You’re lucky Stavros didn’t impale you, President.”

“My apologies,” he says, not sorry at all, “I saw your face and simply had the overwhelming urge to punch it.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, I haven’t done it. Have some faith, President. I can control myself.” I taste the bitter salt of blood. “And please excuse our clothes. We don’t wake up with the sun as you do.” I lead him into the sitting room. She comes back with a pouch of ice and a towel, which she wraps and gingerly holds to my face. “Thank you. I’ll be fine, Alexa, honest.” But she stands protectively next to me, fingers in my hair, staring at President Lytton with venomous eyes. She’s biting her lip again. I touch her hip with my free hand and she stops, eyes darting to me.

“So now you two are in a relationship, I presume? No longer, “just friends” as you told me the last time I saw you.”

“How can I help you?” I say, pulling her onto the couch next to me. He sits across from us, setting his case down. “I don’t think the nature of our relationship is what brought you here.”

“No. That is merely curiosity. A future and ex-champion, my, my. The press will have a field day whenever you choose to announce it. But first, I’m sorry for the loss of your brother, Dr. Stone. I’m sure it was a difficult time for you. I heard you didn’t attend the funeral.”

“There was no need to.” I keep my words curt. “My father’s presence was all my brother had ever wanted. Surely you could have expressed your condolences over the phone, President Lytton. Why are you here?”

“I’m here as an… intervention, you could say. Your father has been up to some strange things.”

He has my attention now. Alexa takes my hand calmly, eyes focused.

“So I’ve heard. However, if this is about him, why didn’t you go talk to him? I’m not his keeper.”

“Because you are much easier to talk to, especially in front of your little miss.”

“You will address me by my name,” Alexa says coolly, in a tone that I’ve used with disrespectful CEOs over the phone. Did she pick it up from me? “I am not an accessory or a bartering chip. I am not sugar you can stir into your tea. I don’t belong to Steven.”

“If anything, it’s the opposite,” I mutter to myself, adjusting the dripping ice pack to the part of my head that hit the doorframe.

“What a fierce face,” he chuckles. “Of course. My apologies, Alexandra. I didn’t mean any offense.” She’s sitting up straight, legs crossed and tucked under her, chin high, hand in mine. “As I was saying, your father has been up to no good, it seems. Tell me, what does every C-Key have?”

“Pieces.”

“Yes, but what else, Alexandra?”

“Phones,” I fill in. “More specifically, iPhones. There is no other brand, and you need it to sync your identification with all the PENs and PALs you have. They aren’t very expensive, though, and you can get one if you apply for Financial Aid with the Piece Keepers. I don’t know what this has to do with Devon Corp. We don’t sell iPhones. Apple does.”

“Thus, you’d expect no connection between the two companies. Yet, a connection has been found.” He unlatches his briefcase and pulls out a clear plastic box. Inside is a tiny microchip, no larger than the head of a paperclip. “At first, we thought there was a dead pixel on the monitor of the x-ray machine, but it turned out that every iPhone comes with this.”

“What were you doing x-raying iPhones?” Alexa asks, puzzled, but he waves away her question.

“That’s not important. What’s important is what was on the chip. You would think it would be crucial for the phone, yes? It isn’t. It’s line after line of non-essential code that ends in something being triggered.”

“Something?”

“Something. I say something because we don’t know what. Yet. But what’s more interesting is that one of my employees used to work at Devon, and she recognized that the chip had Devon’s base code on it, all the way down to the formatting of the comments.”

Every single one? He must have tried older models, too. The iPhone’s debuted about six years ago. Significant events around that time? None, unless you counted the pathetic launching of PALs the year before. Everybody had used PENs, so PALs hadn’t made much of a headway until Red. Devon didn’t specialize in phones; President Jobs had a monopoly on that. So why the connection? Why had there been Devon base code found on an iPhone?

Is he lying? I don’t think so. I can’t see the micro expressions like Brendan Birch can, but I have enough perception to know when people are not being truthful. But there has to be a reason why he’s bringing this to me. Something beneficial to him. Something that will help his company. In what field? Electricity? Technology? PENs? How would this help? A connection has been established but nothing negative has been found. I’m missing information. I can’t make a conclusion from this. What am I—

“Do you want an ice pop, Steven?”

The hand on my face breaks my train of thought. No more than a few milliseconds have passed, but she looks at me with a smile, willing my brain to slow down. I can feel her pulse persuading mine to beat more methodically. President Lytton looks mildly bewildered, unaccustomed to her chaotic changes in topic.

“Do we still have orange ones?”

“Nope. We ran out. I’m gonna get you cherry.”

“What? I hate cherry.”

“I know,” she taunts, sticking out her tongue. “Do you want one President?”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

“I’m gonna get you cherry, too, because you hit Steven.”

I try not to think during her absence. I can tell President Lytton is thrown by the turn of events.

“Her mind moves in leaps,” I explain, filling the silence. I set the melted icepack down. “She makes a series of small, unconventional connections in her brain and then talks about where they led her. But we only hear the conclusion, so sometimes it feels like a completely different topic.”

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. My wife used to think like that. We used to call them her “leaps of faith”. Her conversation topic changes, that is.”

The late Mrs. Lytton, who had died shortly after giving birth to Wally. I am confronted with a sudden wave of pity for the man before me, who dyes his hair to keep it from turning grey.

“I got lemon for you,” she announces when she comes back. “And grape for you, President Lytton. Nobody actually deserves cherry.”

“You said we ran out of orange,” I accuse when she crams an orange popsicle into her mouth.

“Yeah. We just ran out. Besides, we wouldn’t want a distinguished individual like yourself to have your mouth turn orange. President Lytton gets a purple mouth as punishment.”

“I’m buying all cherry next time so we can all suffer equally.” But I take a bite of the lemon ice pop anyway. “Moving back to our original topic, I still have to ask why you brought this matter to us, President. As we don’t know what the code is for, it can’t be determined as legal or illegal. And if it turns out that there is a miniature bomb planted in every single iPhone, that’s more of a matter for the Piece Keepers and Gym Leaders rather than myself.”

“…It’s odd that your brother was cremated, rather than buried, as is the tradition in your family.” He hasn’t unwrapped his popsicle, but holds it loosely in his hands. “You were hospitalized for gunshot wounds shortly before the media announced that your brother was found, dead. What is your father doing? Is he trying to kill off both his heirs?”

“The bullets were meant for me,” Alexa says quietly.

“I did warn you about President Stone and his sons. A threat to his PAL business is a threat to him, Alexandra. Well, you have one less to worry about now.” He stands up, placing the unwrapped popsicle on the table between us. “As I said in the beginning, this is an intervention. Try looking around in your father’s phone records, Dr. Stone. You might find something… unexpected. Curiosity can uncover a great many things.”

Of course he wouldn’t tell me straight out. He knows every word can be used against him in court. I wouldn’t sue him for any of this, but this is how he is. Careful. Sly.

“I’ll see you out, President,” Bastion says from the doorway.

“You should spend more time with Wally, President Lytton. Your son needs a father,” Alexa comments as he slips the plastic box into his jacket pocket.

“Speaking about fathers,” he says with a wry smile, “your father is visiting very soon, isn’t he? In less than a week, I believe.” Alexa visibly pales and her breath hitches. A part of her ice pop breaks off and plops on the wooden floor. “I knew I had seen those eyes elsewhere, Alexandra Oak. You should listen to your father. He has much more information than me, as his methods are not always… legal.”

With that, he stands up and walks into the hall. I hear the front door open and close.

I let her sit in stillness for a while, cautiously taking her hand.

“Father?” I prompt gently, when her color returns. She turns to me, tearing at her lip with her teeth. I touch a corner of her mouth, but she doesn’t stop, so I kiss her, hard, until she’s breathless. She wipes some of her blood off my bottom lip, distressed.

“I have to tell you something,” she says.


End file.
